Chapter 49
RAFE
Paige is the one who pulls me into the dressing room. The fact that it’s her hand in mine and a smile on her lips makes me ache behind my zipper.
Fuck. I wasn’t planning on this. But then she taunted me out there, in the way I’ve become so intimately familiar with, and I couldn’t resist. It’s too delicious to turn it back on her.
Paige leans her back against the dressing room wall. “Well?” she asks. There are spots of color on her cheeks.
“Set your timer.”
She pulls out her phone and sets a timer. She places it on the chair in the corner, face up. It’s a good dressing room. Solid wooden door and fantastic lighting.
“Ten minutes and counting,” she tells me in a low voice.
I lean in, resting my hand beside her head. She tilts her chin up.
I almost kiss her. I want to, so badly. But I find her neck instead. She’s unusually hot to the touch, and she smells good. So damn good. Her slow exhale of breath by my ear is enough to make me feel like I’ve already won.
She did me a favor the other week, and I don’t want to be in her debt. I want her to be the one to crash and break against the surf. I want to feel her wet against my hand again and finish the job this time.
To win a point in this deadly, dangerous game I can’t stop playing.
I feel her pulse beneath my lips, and my hand finds the hem of her skirt. “I haven’t taken a shot,” she says. “Like you did. That time.”
“I know you haven’t.”
“That will make it—oh.” Her voice dies when my hand smooths over the warm skin of her inner thigh. My head swims, and I haven’t even touched her properly yet.
Focus.
“You talk a lot,” I say. Beneath the hem of her skirt, my thumb finds the front of her panties. I smooth it up and down over the fabric. I might do anything to keep touching her like this. “Is this the only way to shut you up?”
She shakes her head a little, always arguing, always disagreeing. Her hands land on my shoulders. Like she’s holding on.
“I think so. You’re damp, too.” I finally let myself kiss her. Not gently either, or for a crowd. This one is just for us.
Her lips move hotly against mine.
I can feel her clit through the fabric. It feels swollen, just a little, nestled right near the top. The phone tells me we’re at nine minutes and counting.
I press down on her clit with my thumb.
Her breath catches against my lips, and then she leans back, eyes narrowing. Like an angry kitten, frustrated at her own body for enjoying the moment.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know how to do this?” I circle with steady pressure and find the spot on her neck that she loves so much. My free hand slides up and finds the hardness of one of her nipples through the fabric of her shirt.
I’ve seen her naked before, but I’ve never been able to touch her. Not like this.
“I’m not going to come,” she says. It sounds less convincing now, when her voice is breathless.
I slide her panties to the side and groan against her lips. Fuck. She’s wet and soft, her skin like silk. And so warm. Just like I remember from the time I touched her before, on the dock of my villa.
I’ve dreamed of her against my fingers often since then.
“And why not? Because you don’t want to lose a tiny little bet?” I rub her clit, bare skin against bare skin now. Her fingers turn into claws on my shoulders. “You can hate me and feel good at the same time. Just like I did.”
“That was different,” she says.
“Because you were the one with all the power? Widen your legs for me a bit, darling. That’s it. Good.”
She steps her legs wider, and I use my free hand to push her skirt higher up so I can see her. Her tan thighs and the black thong I’ve pushed to the side. Her pretty pussy and the glistening skin.
This room should be bigger. I should have her laid out, panties off, legs spread, and all the time in the world.
She’s not an appetizer; she’s a feast.
But I’ll have to make do.
I find the crook of her left knee and lift it up, putting her foot against the chair in the corner. Spreading her even wider.
“That’s it,” I tell her, and kiss her again. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
I should be going down on her.
I fucking want to. But I’m proving a point here, that I can do to her what she did to me, and that was only using a hand. A quick glance at the clock tells me I have six more minutes.
I keep toying with her clit using my right hand. The left smooths up her bent knee, her inner thigh, until I find the soft wetness of her entrance. I stroke her there and keep up the pressure on her clit. She’s breathing fast, her chest rising and falling.
I keep my lips against hers.
“Be angry at me, hmm?” I tell her. “Not your body. Look how good it’s doing.” I push my index finger inside. The angle is tight, and she gasps when I’m buried to the second knuckle.
Fuck, she feels good. Everything inside me wants to free my aching cock and sink inside. She’s hot, too. Blazing.
I stroke her inside, curling my fingers.
She’s starting to whimper a little. They’re quiet sounds, half muffled. She’s close. I keep circling her clit, increasing the pleasure. There’s a flush in her cheeks and furious resignation in her eyes.
I switch to French, speaking the words against her lips. I tell her how pretty she is, how perfect her pussy is, how she should let me make her feel good.
Her hand finds my hair, and she grips tight. “Tell me,” she says, “what you just said.”
“Don’t hold back. Don’t I owe you that?” I look down, my finger still buried inside her heat. I speed up the circles on her clit and then I slap it lightly. A few quick, hard taps. “You’re perfect like this, darling. Come for me. Let me make you feel good.”
Her body shakes, and she whimpers against my mouth. “Rafe,” she whispers.
“That’s it, amore. Just like that.”
She comes. I hold her through it and kiss her lips to hide the moans that escape her. I always knew she’d be loud. The satisfaction of being right makes my cock throb, and I hold her tight when her body goes limp.
I keep touching her gently. She was cruel with me, hard and fast, and it made me come harder than I had in years. But I want to prove to her that she can accept softness from me, too. Kill them with kindness.
I glance down at the phone. “And look at that, darling. I only needed seven minutes.”
“I hate you,” she whispers. Her skin is flushed and her breathless words are entirely unconvincing. There’s a glazed look to her eyes that I could make my religion.
I kiss her temple. “And since we have more time…”
I drop to my knees in front of her.