“Did you get it done just to tease me?” he asked. “Because when I saw the charge on the invoice, I almost made you show me the results.”
I’d thought it was a little poetic at the time, how he’d pay for it and not get to see the results, but I was kidding myself. I’d hoped for this moment. “I’ve never been waxed before. Do you like it?”
Oh, his grin was delicious. “I do.” He pretended to examine it thoroughly. “The quality of work seems to be excellent.”
He turned his palm up to the ceiling and ran the backs of his two middle fingers over the smooth skin at the cleft between my legs. Back and forth he sawed them, up to my clit and down to my entrance, over and over again. It felt so impossibly good.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
Desire was building inside me, making it difficult to focus. “Yeah. I like how it feels,” I panted, “especially when you’re touching me.”
He took in a deep breath, and satisfaction flooded his face. “Like this?” He rocked his fingers once more over the nub of flesh that sent electric bliss surging through me. “Or do you like this better?”
On his downward stroke, he pushed his middle fingers inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I cried.
My toes tightened into points at his intrusion. The stretch around him wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was a lot, and I threw a hand up behind my head in a futile attempt to grab a handful of couch cushion. His other hand had been resting on my knee, but it skated up the curve of my body, not stopping until he had hold of one of my breasts.
A loud, deep moan tore from the back of my throat when he pulsed his fingers inside me. I watched his hand thrust and his fingers grow slick, and I had to shut my eyes because it was so goddamn hot, I worried it would burn my retinas and cause permanent damage.
But even in the darkness, Vance was there. His palm massaged my breast and pinched my nipple. His thick fingers stroked and drove into me, hitting the perfect spot to push me over the edge.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” he whispered, “you have no idea.”
But I did. God, how I did.
He continued to pump his fingers, and I imagined that was the same tempo he’d fuck me at. He kept his steady pace. “Do you want me to?”
My brain was overwhelmed with lust, so it was impossible to tell if he was serious or not, but there was no other answer. “Yes.”
“You want me to slide my cock right here, Emery? You want me to fuck you on this couch and come all over this perfect pussy of yours?”
“Yes.” It was a whine. A plea.
His taunting tone was so sinful, it was almost cruel. “But what about my vow?”
Fuck your vow, I wanted to say. I hadn’t made one.
Except . . . I had. I’d told him we could work on resisting temptation together. I struggled to sound strong. “Just because I want it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.” I peered at him over my rapidly moving chest to deliver my warning. “Don’t tease me, and I won’t tease you.”
He considered my statement thoughtfully and must have taken it to heart because he gave an acknowledging nod, leaned down, and resumed using his tongue on me. He painted bliss with every flutter, making me gasp and contract with jolts of pleasure.
I was a quivering mess as I watched him work. His pink tongue caressed and massaged in lush strokes. The relentless thrust of his fingers had enough force it caused the couch to creak beneath me, and waves of goosebumps to dot my skin.
He’d turned the tables on me in the sense he was the master safecracker now. He tried different techniques, investigating the right combination to crack me open, and it didn’t take him long to find it.
“Shit,” I whispered. “Oh, my God.”
He’d lined up all the notches, and my cry was the same as the click of the fence dropping into place, signifying he’d done it. I pictured Vance at the front of a safe giving the wheel its final turn to draw the lock bolt back, pulling open the door to let my pleasure storm through.
Ecstasy thundered through my body. It crackled like heat across my skin and left a delicious tingling sensation behind. And as I came, Vance watched me with victory burning in his eyes, noting every wave of satisfaction he’d caused.
All the quick orgasms I’d given myself this week while I was alone in the shower had just been a temporary fix. A way to placate the worst of my craving and lust for him. The sexual tension between us had remained, building toward this release, and now that it was here it poured from me in a loud, pleasure-filled moan.