“Oh, that,” she said. “That’s a start.”
“You weren’t lying. You are wet.”
He lay on his side and cradled her head in his arm and against his chest as he touched her. This was unexpectedly pleasant—naked skin against his flannel. His shirt felt as soft and warm as the sheets she’d slept on as a kid at the cabin. If Chris wasn’t careful she would steal one of his flannel shirts to take back with her to Hawaii.
Joey closed her eyes and moved her hips with his hand as Chris stroked inside her, first with one finger, then two and finally three. The man was good with his hands, that was for sure. He was gentle and slow. No pistoning, no prodding. Just caressing, exploring, stimulating.
“What feels good to you?” he said into her ear, and if she hadn’t been wet before, that question asked by this man in that tone of voice would do it.
“Um, well, if you push in a little a few inches inside and rub back and forth that’s good.”
“Here?” He touched a spot.
“A little higher.”
“Here?”
He touched another spot and Joey inhaled sharply.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “That was it.”
“That was it,” she said breathlessly.
He pushed into the spot, softly at first and then harder. She could sense him watching her face, listening to her breathing, gauging her reactions.
“Can you come from this?” he asked as he rubbed that spot inside her in a tight circle.
“If you keep doing that I will.”
“Then I will keep doing this. I want to feel you come on my fingers.”
“Then will you get naked?”
“If you come on my fingers?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “But I better feel it.”
“Keep doing that and you’ll feel it.”
“I won’t stop until you beg me to. And only then.”
He kissed her ear and she shivered at his warm mouth and hot breath on his skin. Shivered again as he massaged inside her. And God, it was good. His fingers grazed every nerve along the wet inner walls of her body. Pleasure spiked deep into her stomach, up her back, into her upper thighs. Her head fell back and she moaned quietly.
“You can be louder,” Chris said.
“I don’t want the neighbors to hear.”
“They’ve put up with me sledgehammering today. Trust me, the sound of you coming is much better than that.”
“Maybe I don’t want them to hear me come. Maybe I only want you to hear me come.” She met his eyes and smiled. He kissed that smile right off her face. And still his fingers moved in her as he kissed her. In all her life she’d never had a more wicked, teasing man inside her. He seemed to know just when she was getting this close to coming. Then he’d push in deeper or turn his hand or pause to kiss her breasts again. Anything to delay her orgasm. Yet she couldn’t complain. Who would? An incredibly sexy man had his fingers inside her. This was so much better than lunch.
“Please let me come,” she said.
“Why do you want to come so much?” he asked, brushing her clitoris lightly with his thumb. “Aren’t you enjoying this?”
“I love it.”