Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

She pushes my hands to the waistband of her leggings again. Off, her eyes say.

So off they go. I pull them down to her ankles and she spreads her knees, leaning back on her elbows.

It’s my turn to stare. Emma’s little landing strip is maddeningly hot.

“Gorgeous,” I spit out, stepping between her legs. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Emma.”

She bites her lip. Propping herself up on one elbow, she reaches down and lazily plays with herself. Teasing me with her pink, slick, and ready pussy.

I’m going to scream if I don’t get to fuck her soon.

“Why do you look so pissed?” she asks.

“Because you’re a pain in the ass, remember?”

“I do.” Her eyes flick to the floor. She raises her voice. “Get on your knees, Beauregard.”

Fuuuuuuuuck.

I drop down and she grabs me by the hair and yanks me to her. My blood roars at the way the hardwood floors bite into my knees.

This time she doesn’t need to tell me what to do.

I lean in and gently suck on her clit. She hisses, head falling back. I sink one finger inside her, and my balls tighten. She’s small and right, so fucking right, I want to weep.

She pulls my hair harder. Another.

I slowly push another finger inside her and feel her stretch around me. She sucks in a breath, and I almost stroke the fuck out when she lies all the way back on the countertop. Her free hand disappears inside her shirt, and I can see the outline of her hand as she plucks at her nipple.

“Let me see,” I grunt, shoving her shirt up her belly.

She’s wearing a sports bra. She hasn’t bothered to hike it up, so I do, exposing her breast. I thumb her nipple, and the crown of her head meets with the counter, her eyes squeezing shut.

I lick her clit and thrust my fingers, and her walls flutter, clamping down on me once.

“Beauregard,” she yells, eyes still closed. “Where the hell did you learn to eat pussy like this?”

I just shake my head and continue my mission to make her come.

My cock is full-on tenting my sweats. I can feel the wet spot where my pre-cum’s leaked through the fabric.

She’s biting her lip, moaning as she rides my mouth and my fingers. Her pussy clamps down, hard this time. Her eyes open and find mine.

She comes, and it excites me so much—the sounds she makes, how her body arches off the counter, the way she looks me in the eye—that I almost come with her.

But scumbags don’t deserve release. So I don’t give in to mine.

I can’t be punished enough for what I’ve done, and what I’m doing now.

Chapter Sixteen

Emma

I come apart in Samuel’s hands.

His tongue on my pussy, his fingers curled into my thighs, I come so hard it knocks the breath out of me. The force of the orgasm is propulsive, sending wave after wave of sensation crashing through my center. My entire being pulses in time to the tide, a quick, eviscerating drumbeat I feel down to my toes.

It’s the best orgasm I’ve had in ages. Maybe because I shaved? I’m always experimenting with my grooming habits. Or maybe it’s because I’m coming on someone else’s fingers, with someone else’s tongue on my clit. I don’t have to try—to focus, to think, to fantasize—because the fantasy is happening right here, right now.

Granted, it’s a fucked-up fantasy. Can you even call a hate hookup with a coworker a fantasy, especially after that coworker treats you like shit?

But the man knows what he’s doing.

Those broad, strong fingers I’ve been staring at for days touched me just the way I like to be touched. His lips are as soft and full and knowledgeable as I imagined they’d be.

And there’s something true about the way he’s looking at me right now, blue eyes wide and full of emotion. He’s not hiding or smirking or glowering. He’s shocked, just as shocked as I am that he likes what I like.

He likes that I like being bossy. From the way he looks, and keeps looking, I can tell he’s curious too. He’s not afraid. He’s not judging me.

I’ve met so few men outside the internet who don’t judge me for being on the alpha side of the power dynamic scale I’ve started to believe they didn’t exist.

But none of that matters when the guy in question treats you like garbage. Even a great orgasm doesn’t change that.

It also doesn’t change the fact that I never should’ve touched Samuel in the first place. This is wrong in a million ways.

He was wrong to taunt me, and I was wrong to let him.

How awkward is it going to be at work now? Will I be distracted and fuck up? What if Samuel runs his mouth, and it gets out I was (mostly) naked with a Beauregard brother?