Chapter 29 #2
"Fuck, I can't wait to see it," I growl, unable to contain myself any longer.
I spin her around in one fluid motion, pressing her back against the pantry shelves.
My mouth crashes down on hers in the darkness, hungry and demanding.
My hand slides back into her bottoms without hesitation, fingers finding that small metal barbell again.
I circle it gently, testing its weight and position, utterly fascinated by this secret part of her that no one else gets to see or touch.
This hidden rebellion on her innocent body is driving me insane with desire.
Skye gasps sharply against my lips, her entire body jerking in response to my touch.
She's far more sensitive than I anticipated, the piercing clearly amplifying every sensation.
I experiment methodically—varying pressure, speed, and direction—learning what makes her breath hitch and her thighs tremble.
Each tiny reaction is mentally cataloged and stored away for future reference.
I've always been detail-oriented, and right now, Skye's pleasure is my most important project.
"Have you ever been fingered before?" I ask, my voice rough with barely contained desire, needing to know how far she's gone with others.
"No," she whispers, the confession sending another jolt of pure lust through my system. "But I want you to. I want to feel you inside of me." Her words slide across my lips, our mouths hovering just centimeters apart, sharing the same heated breath.
"God, you're fucking perfect," I tell her, meaning every word as I slowly begin sliding one finger inside her.
The tight, slick heat that envelops me is almost too much to bear.
She's so wet and unbelievably tight, a strangled moan escaping her when my finger slides most of the way in. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” She whispers.
"Do you like it?" I need to hear her say it, need the verbal confirmation that she wants this as much as I do.
"Mmm, yes," she moans, the sound reverberating through the confined space of the dark pantry, sending vibrations straight to my core.
"Good, because I'm going to add another finger," I inform her before bringing my lips back down to claim hers.
I kiss her deeply while slowly withdrawing my finger almost entirely before pressing back in with two.
She tears her lips from mine, hissing sharply when my fingers are almost fully seated.
Her nails dig crescents into the skin of my shoulder, the slight pain only heightening my arousal.
"Just a little more," I coax, feeling her body's resistance. "You're such a good girl for me."
I feel her body instantly relax at my words—she likes being my good girl.
The knowledge burns through me, another piece of information about what makes Skye tick.
I slide my fingers in deeper and curl them expertly, searching for that perfect spot while simultaneously working her clit with my thumb, the metal barbell adding a fascinating dimension to her pleasure.
"God, you're so fucking tight," I murmur against her mouth, feeling her inner walls grip my fingers like a vice. "So wet for me."
Her hips begin to roll instinctively against my hand, seeking more friction, more depth, more everything.
Her inner walls clench rhythmically around my fingers as I increase the pace, feeling her body respond naturally to my touch as though we've been doing this dance for years instead of minutes.
"Please," she whispers, the word barely audible, her breath hot against my ear. "Don't stop."
"That's it, baby," I encourage, sensing she's climbing closer to the edge. My own arousal is almost painfully hard against my swim shorts, but I push my needs aside, focusing entirely on her pleasure.
The sudden pad of feet walking into the kitchen makes us both freeze instantly. "Not here," a voice says that's unmistakably Wren's with her distinctive Southern accent. "Someone might come in."
A deep male chuckle follows—I can't quite identify whose it is—along with the sound of something—or someone—bumping against a kitchen counter.
Without thinking, I quickly cover Skye's mouth with my free hand.
But rather than stopping my ministrations, I intensify them, working her faster, harder, the danger of discovery only heightening my determination to make her come right here, right now.
I feel her moan desperately against my palm as her body begins to tremble uncontrollably.
She's coming undone, her climax crashing through her while Wren and someone—Reed, hopefully?
—move around just feet away on the other side of the thin pantry door.
The danger of discovery seems to intensify everything, and I feel her inner muscles contract powerfully around my fingers as she comes, her body shuddering against mine in waves of pleasure.
When the kitchen finally falls silent again and the back door slams shut, I slowly remove my hand from her mouth, replacing it with my lips. I kiss her deeply, possessively, as she comes down from her high, my fingers still buried inside her, reluctant to break this intimate connection just yet.
"You did so well," I whisper against her lips, pride evident in my voice. "Taking my fingers while staying quiet. Such a good girl."
I feel her smile against my mouth, her body still intermittently trembling with aftershocks.
Slowly, reluctantly, I withdraw my fingers, making her whimper softly at the loss.
Without conscious thought, I bring them to my mouth, needing to taste her essence.
The flavor hits my tongue—sweet, tangy, utterly addictive—and I groan deeply, already imagining how she'll taste directly from the source, when I can take my time exploring every inch of her.