14. Helen #2
The morning attack faded from my thoughts, and the sting of my bruised jaw and hurt lip dwindled out of existence.
Nothing remained, save for the growing need and the searing tension between me and the man caving to my demands.
I carried on, grabbing his wrist from my waist and lowering his hand to the apex of my thighs.
“This is what I need. Please.” I pressed his fingers to my soaked lace and captured his mouth again. He kissed me back with a growl in his chest and hooked a finger in the damp material.
“This is what you needed?” He slid a finger over my slit, feeling the slick coating my lower lips.
“Yes. Yes!” My head dropped back, giving him access to my throat. Drake pressed his mouth to my neck, biting and sucking bruises into my skin while his finger stroked through my folds at an agonizingly slow pace. Like he was savoring the feel of me, drenching his finger.
“Fuck. Fuck, you’re so wet, Monty. So fucking wet for me.” He dropped his head on my shoulder, heaving a heavy breath and shuddering against me. “You’re so good for me. So wet and perfect.”
His praise sent ripples of delight through me. Goosebumps broke out over my arms. A bolt of need shivered through me, and his fingers stoked the embers in my core. Then he located my clit, rubbing it with practiced ease, and light rushed into my vision.
“Merde!” My entire body trembled against him, not from panic or adrenaline, but pure pleasure. “?a fait du bien.”
“Bien? You think it’s good?” Drake dipped his finger to my entrance and collected my arousal before bringing it back up to swirl around my clit. Swift, tight circles just the way I liked to be touched. It was deliriously fantastic.
“Oui. Putain, c’est tellement bon.”
“Yeah? You like that?” It almost sounded condescending. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and more rapid French breached my lips. “Let me see, Monty. Lean back. Let me look at what I’m doing to you.”
I locked my fingers on his shoulders, holding tight as I shifted back enough for him to look between us. Drake kept one hand tight behind my neck, trapping me in place. The other dropped from my clit to my cunt. A shallow moan vented from me when he slipped a finger into my fluttering channel.
“Breathe, Monty. That’s it.” He coaxed me through the intrusion and my hitched gasp. “In, breathe slowly. Stay with me. Right here. Just breathe and relax.”
“Oh, putain!” I slowed my lungs, drawing in air, mimicking the unhurried slide of his finger. Then he added a second, and the stretch made me keen and shiver on his lap.
His darkened eyes watched his fingers disappear inside of me. His stuttered exhales and almost black gaze thrilled me with the distressing realization that he was still fiercely attracted to me. It gave me an indecent joy.
“Let me see.” He withdrew his digits to the first knuckle, licking his lips at the sight. “Fucking perfect. Gorgeous.” We moaned simultaneously as he entered me again. “Perfect tight, wet cunt gripping my fingers. You feel so good for me, Monty.”
Seized by lust, I rolled my hips into his palm. Drake grunted, pumping his hand against me, so his fingers curled against my inner walls and his palm massaged my clit. He finger-fucked me and never took his salacious gaze off where we were connected.
“Ne vous arrêtez pas. S’il vous pla?t, ne vous arrêtez pas.”
“I’ve dreamt of this. Fuck, I haven’t stopped dreaming of this, of you. The thought of you spread open haunts me. God damn, you look perfect spread out and riding my fingers.”
A tightening behind my pelvis and pulse in my core warned me of my incoming release.
Each dedicated pump of Drake’s fingers in my cunt and his palm cupping my sex sent me spiraling toward a delirious high.
My thighs trembled from riding his thigh and hand, racing to the edge as I used him to get off.
“I can feel how close you are,” Drake whispered, hot breath dancing along my throat.
He curled his fingers against my inner front wall, targeting the sensitive spot and made me see stars.
Each flutter of my cunt and the wet, slick sounds of him pumping his digits into me sent me into a storm of bliss.
“Je suis... je suis proche.” If he stopped now, as I balanced on the cusp, I’d tear his eyes out of his head and then proceed to strangle him.
I gripped him tight, surely leaving red crescent marks from my nails on the back of his neck.
A sharp half moan, half gasp leapt from my throat as the first flutters of my orgasm gripped me.
“Good girl. Give it to me,” he encouraged—no, pleaded. “Let go, let me feel it, Monty. Come for me.”
He was begging—begging.
I shattered, quaking and crying out as he wrung me of every ounce of pleasure he could get. His fingers fucked me through every wave of my orgasm, and I rejoiced in the swell of endorphins beating back the negative claws hooked in my system.
Lucidity crashed through me, a freight train of frigid reality that sent me swaying away from the man perched at the edge of my desk.
His fingers grasped at the air between us, as if trying to keep his hold on me.
But he pulled them back, careful not to touch anything with his slick fingers.
His chest heaved, and he ran his unused hand through his dark hair, disheveling the already mussed locks.
The pink flush on his cheeks made me look away.
But I felt his gaze lingering on me.
“Get out,” I snapped.
“Monty—” He jerked upright.
“No.” I stuck a hand up between us. A pitiful wall, but enough to make him pause. “Just leave. Please.”
“Fuck that. I can’t.” Anger threaded through his husky voice. “You were panicking after a goddamn attack. I can’t leave you here like this. Especially after?—”
“Don’t say it. Just get out.”
“Stop cutting me off! For fuck’s sake!” His voice rose with his temper. “I just want to help you, Monty! That’s all I want. Let me help you.”
I cut my eyes to him, ignoring the emotional distress written in his expression. Instead, I pointedly traced the bruised area of my chin, making sure he watched the slow skim of my finger to the busted corner of my kiss-swollen lips.
“I only panicked because of the violation of my home, which hardly anyone knows the location of. Not because of the attack. I’ve been followed and hurt before.” My eyes narrowed into thin slits, intentionally targeting him.
“Great. Just fucking great. Well, I hope you enjoyed the distraction that I provided, Monty.” It wasn’t anger in his voice—it sounded too much like misery.
Drake stomped toward the door and stopped in the doorway, his body as tense as a strung bow.
“I wish I could kill everyone who ever hurt you. But I don’t think a bullet would taste very good. ” The door slammed behind him.