Page 58 of Almost Rotten

The vibrator is back to the lowest setting—his doing—prolonging the waves of pleasure without overwhelming my frazzled, twitchy nerves.

With his hands still splayed on my inner thighs, he uses his thumbs to caress my pussy lips, outlining the toy still lodged inside me.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he tells me, voice raspy and gaze set on my face. “I mean it, Sawyer. Better than I could have ever fucking dreamed.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow as he looks from my cunt to my face.

A trickle of embarrassment hums in the back of my mind. I can feel the sweat on my brow, and I’m sure my face is red and blotchy. I subtly try to look away, but Ty slaps my thigh lightly, making me jolt.

“Eyes on me, mon ange. Don’t pull away yet.”

Dammit. With a shuddering breath, I force myself to zero in on him.

Voice quaking with vulnerability, he asks, “When you’re alone, and you make yourself come… do you ever think about me?”

My answer is honest and instant.

“Every time.”

He closes his eyes and huffs out a little laugh.

Then he stands, hovers over the bed, and gently pulls the vibrator out of my body. “That’s what I thought.” He inspects the toy, eyes narrowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“You’ve always been my every fantasy,” he admits. “Your voice, the noises you make. The way you smell.” He holds up the vibrator and cocks one eyebrow. “How you taste.”

He puts the bulbous end of the toy in his mouth, eyes shuttering closed and a little moan escaping him.

Then he pops the toy out and leans over me, bracketing one arm near my head, his face inches from mine.

“Need to know how you feel, too, baby. That’ll be next, okay?”

With those words, reality slams into me.

What I just did.

What I allowed.

What I’m still desperate for him to do.

The truth is, I want to know how he feels, too.

I squeeze my eyes closed, clamp my mouth closed, and try to block out the guilt and fresh shame that douses me as I accept just how much I want him.

Chapter twenty-two

Tytus

As I saunter away from the bed, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder and study Sawyer. She’s spread out, her body languid. While I fully intend to join her and hold her close, I need to clean up. Because I came in my pants. Again.

Though her eyes are closed and her breathing has evened out like she’s asleep, I whisper, “I need to take a shower.”

“Here?” She sits up, the sheets rustling gently.

There’s no defensiveness in her tone. She sounds more curious than anything.

“Yes, petit diable. Here. I told you I’d be sleeping in this bed as often as I can. I’m making good on my promise tonight.”

I gather the few toiletries I brought, then enter the small en suite and strip out of my clothes. Without bothering to wait for the water to warm up, I step into the stall. With any luck, the icy blast will make my dick stand down.