34. Daniel
DANIEL
The game has never been this close.
And maybe it’s never been this necessary.
Or this electric.
This illicit.
But then, I’ve never gone this far with it. Multiple trysts, multiple times. Never wanted to. Never needed to. I’ve been content to walk away.
That’s what I do. I walk away, and it’s perfectly fine.
I’m sure I’ll walk away from this one perfectly fine as well, because I’m not in this for feelings.
I’m not in this for her. I’m a selfish fucking bastard. I’m in it for me. And I want this night because it blots out everything in my past.
When the game is this good, I’m ravenous, ready to devour anything and everything to fill me up again. To make me feel less empty.
Tonight, that something is Sage.
A wicked thrill rushes through me knowing the role I’ll be playing in fucking my best friend’s woman in ways she’s never been fucked before. Unraveling her in ways she’s never been unraveled before.
Starting now.
On the dance floor, I run a hand over the soft waves of her hair, savoring the feel of it in my fingers. “Tell me, love. How many times did you get yourself off today?”
She raises a brow. “How do you know I did that?”
My hand roams down her back, toward the top of her ass. I dip my face to her neck, inhaling her scent. Dragging my nose along her skin. “Because you smell like . . .” I take my time, sliding my nose even closer to her, then finishing the thought, “Sex. You smell like sex and like desire.”
I inch back to record her reaction—the way she bites the corner of her lips, the admission in her eyes.
“And what makes you say that?” Her feathery voice betrays her lust. A lust that’s racing through her, I’m sure.
“ That. The way you tremble. The way you shiver. The way you radiate desire. When you’re in my arms, you look and feel like a woman who wants to be fucked.
In fact, I bet your fingers were flying between your legs at some point today,” I say, then reach for her hand, draw two fingers into my mouth, and suck.
Her eyes fall shut as I draw her fingers deeper, then I let them fall out with a wet pop .
“I bet these fingers were on your clit, between your legs, sliding between the slippery, wet folds of your pussy, all slick and hot with your arousal. All that wetness. I bet you loved the feel of your own heat, moaned when you felt your body’s reaction to your thoughts.
I bet you even prepped yourself all day long,” I say in a challenge, wanting her to feel challenged, since she loves that.
She swallows, then speaks gravelly words as she whispers, “Did he tell you?”
I grin, a satisfied smile. “About the gift? Love, it was my idea.” I slide my other hand down her side, curling it over her hip, my thumb stroking her hip bone. “So tell me, did you play with your pussy this evening? Before the party?”
She nods savagely, wanting to admit this. “Yes,” she says, as we whirl past other partygoers dressed to the nines. “I did. And then when Cole arrived to pick me up, he spread me out on the bed, and he feasted on me.”
She says it like a taunt. She wants to taunt me. She wants to work me up. She wants me to be the one to break.
But I won’t break. I never break.
Still, a growl moves through me, and I’m jealous, I’m so fucking jealous. And I tell her as much. Because I want to taste her.
My hands tighten around her, and my nostrils flare. “I want to smell you. I want to taste you. I want to feel you all over my jaw, my lips, my tongue.”
Her lips are playful as she whispers, “How much do you want to taste me?”
“I’ve wanted to since that first night. I’ve been deprived. I want to bury my face between your legs and make you come so damn hard.”
She slams her hips against me. “And I want you to devour me.”
“I will,” I say, and in my head, I add, And I’ll return to London, satisfied, sated.
At least for a little while.
Maybe I’ll be happier. Or perhaps more content.
Tonight, though, I can take a little bit of decadence for myself. A bit of her.
A taste, a fuck, a mind-bending liaison can quench so much of my thirst. It can satiate so much of my hunger because there’s so much I want to do to her body. When I bring my face between her legs, it will blot out all the other things I long for.
It will take all the longing away.
It has to, because this tryst is ending. Tonight will be the last time with her.
I won’t be back for a while, and I can’t imagine, the way the two of them are growing closer, that they’re going to want somebody to come between them again.
Can’t imagine, either, that they’re going to need it.
But they’ll take this one last time. She’ll get it out of her system.
And I’ll get it out of mine.
And that will be enough. It has to be enough.