Page 23 of Bit's Bliss

“Good girl.” He thrust one finger inside me, and I cried out. When he pressed another against my clit, I whimpered. “Should I let you come?” he asked, adding a second finger.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell me why.”

“Ineedit. No one hasever?—”

His fingertips curled inside me, his thumb swirled my bundle of nerves, and pleasure like none I knew existed coursed through every part of my body. I clung to him as wave after wave of pure ecstasy radiated from between my legs. He stilled, then slowly increased the rhythm of his thrusts, deepening the pressure. “Give me one more,” he demanded. “Now, Eberly.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned.

“Not God. Whose hand is bringing you such pleasure?” His fingers curled again, pressing hard against my flesh. “Say my name.”

“Trevino,” I cried.

“Again.”

“Trevino.”His name came out like a prayer the second time I said it.

“Don’t ever forget that I am the man responsible for your orgasms. No one but me.”

“No one but you, sir.”

He shuddered, removed his hand from my pussy, and brought it to my neck. He licked his fingers, then thrust his tongue into my mouth. “Taste yourself and know that’s what I do to you.”

For the third time in my life, someone other than me had made me come. All it had taken was Trevino’s kiss.

He held me close and stroked my hair. “Thank you for the gift of your pleasure, my beautiful dove.”

I wanted to thank him instead. Tell him I hadn’t given him anything; I’d only received. But I couldn’t speak. I held onto him as my body returned to earth. A tear leaked from my eye, and he caught it with his lips.

“One day soon, your tears will be my gifts too.”

If he as much as touched my pussy, I knew I’d come again.

I heard a cell phone ringing, but it wasn’t mine.

“Dammit,” Trevino muttered, easing me out of his arms. “I should get that.”

“Okay,” I leaned against the pillow he’d propped next to me and closed my eyes.

“Hey, Sheriff.”

I bolted upright, then held my breath, waiting for Trevino to speak again. When he walked toward me, his eyes were riveted to mine.

“Yeah, send it over, and we’ll take a look.”

“What?” I asked when he ended the call and sat beside me.

“He said there’s footage from your security camera of the guy he thinks was at your gate last night.”

I gasped. “Who was it?”

“Vader’s hoping you’ll know.”

Trevino’s phone pinged, and he swiped the screen. When an image of a man appeared in the grainy video, both of us gasped.

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