Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

I ignore the idiotic question as I smooth my palm over her hip. “My question first, princess.”

She bites her lip, and it’s all I can do not to roll on top of her, rip off those tiny shorts, and bury myself inside her.

I lower my head, my lips trailing over her neck before I bite her softly. “Be a good girl now, Jenny. Tell me the truth. Are…” I slide my hand down the side of her hip. “…you…” My hand slides forward and down until I’m palming the smooth, silky skin of her inner thigh. “…wet?” My thumb slides up and I let it hover near her but not actually touching her, and she m

akes a keening noise of want.

I make a rough sound in the back of my throat. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

My hand moves back up, fingers grazing the curve of her stomach before sliding under the silky fabric of her panties to the even silkier skin beneath.

“As I expected,” I whisper against her neck. “Soaking wet.”

She doesn’t reply, her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing quickening as I slowly stroke her, my fingers gliding easily against her wet flesh.

“Whose fingers do you like better, Jenny?”

She doesn’t respond, and I move my hand back slightly, denying her contact. “Jenny. Whose fingers?”

The greedy little wench arches her hips, but I resist, not giving her what she needs until she gives me the words I need.

Her body tells me she wants me, but I need to hear her say it.

“Come on,” I breathe against her throat, trailing soft kisses there. “You can do it.”

I suck on her neck, hard, and she cries out.

“Yours,” she gasps. “I like your fingers better.”

“That’s a good girl,” I say, my fingers resuming their exploration of her hot center.

I haven’t enjoyed fingering a girl this much since junior high, and I take my time figuring out what she likes. Two fingers circling her clit makes her pant, but those same two fingers deep inside her make her moan.

I alternate between the two, keeping her just on the edge but not letting her go over.

My mouth waters with the need to taste her, but when I start to pull my hand away to go down on her, she grabs my wrist, nails digging into my skin. “Noah. Please. I need—”

My name on her lips nearly destroys me, somehow far more intimate than her slickness all over my fingers, and I have a definite oh fuck moment as reality sets in.

I’m messing with a girl I have no business messing with, a girl whose every whimper sounds innocent as fuck, who, despite her current reputation, doesn’t seem the least bit skilled in seduction.

But an ugly thought has planted itself.

Other guys have done this.

And while I have absolutely zero issues with Jenny Dawson hooking up with whoever the hell she wants, the stab of possessive jealousy is bitter and foreign in my mouth.

The fact that other guys have touched her like this and heard those breathy little moans sends a surge of jealous rage through me, something far more intense than the sting of Yvonne cheating on me.

The realization of just how much pull this girl has on me makes me a little bit mean. Meaner, I should say, since I’ve not been exactly kind in my effort to keep her at arm’s length.

“What do you need?” I demand, my wrist easily resisting her efforts to push my hand back to her. “You need my fingers on you? In you?”

“Yes!” She arches, too far gone to play coy anymore.

Still I press her, wanting to punish her for making me desire her the way I do. “You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” I ask crudely before sliding two fingers back inside her, hard.

Jenny gasps as I slick my fingers in and out of her without mercy.