Page 133 of Falling Offsides

“Fuck… yes…” I bite my lip hard, sucking at it with the need to feel the same throng of electricity root through me the same way it did when Auguste was biting and sucking at my thighs.

“Come on. Please…” I beg my body to work with me as I stroke my fingers down to my entrance and curl them inside. Stroking and thrusting. “Fuck.”

I’m trying. God, I’m trying.

But every pump of my fingers only reminds me of Auguste’s thicker, longer ones that hit so fucking perfect… so damn good. His voice in my ear. Thick bulge pressed against me—teasing, taunting… promising.

“Aargh…” My hand falls away in frustration. I can’t get myself off. Not without him. Not after the way his mouth claimed me.

Pathetic. I know.

Maybe I should be ashamed of it. Of the way he gets under my skin and in my head. It’s everything I’ve protected myself from. And yet, there’s a thrill in my blood. A warmth of… I don’t know… maybe not being isolated and alone?

I shower, faster than ever. Diffuse my hair with some frizz control product so that my curls are polished rather than wiry. My makeup takes me longer than normal. In between emphasizing my best features—eyes and lips—and keeping the look natural, I run out of time to dive through the few dresses I brought with me and opt for the same black corset number with the puff sleeves I wore to the karaoke night with the same heels and a mini Dior lady purse—a gift from Delilah’s parents for my twenty-first birthday.

I’m touching up my lip liner after I set it for a second time—my nerves have me breaking out in an upper lip sweat—when there’s a knock on my door, followed by the trill of the doorbell when I add a slick of lip oil.

Samson comes bounding in from the patio where he’s been making the most of the last rays of sun after wearing himself out with his antler chew treat. Rushing to the door, he leaps at the knob before running back to me in a circle and then right back to the door.

The instant I open it, he jumps at his daddy. Barking up at him when he doesn’t pick him up.

My word. I’m speechless. Frozen to the spot as I take Auguste in. At this point, it shouldn’t surprise me how incredible he looks in his expertly tailored black suit and white shirt. His collar is unbuttoned just enough to show a peek of his strong chest and—my, my—the heart tag I gave him sits in pride of place, hanging from the thicker of his two gold chains.

“You look…” A pitched hiss trails his unfinished statement as he comes closer, giving Samson a small dog biscuit to distract him.

Auguste leans in, lips brushing my temple while his hands circle my waist. “I love your hair like this.”

“Didn’t have time to straighten it,” I croak when he trails his nose along my jaw and breathes me in.

Every time he does it, my insides come to life. The flutters in my belly make it impossible to stand still. Meanwhile, that heavyset need he left me with tightens in my core. A throbbing reminder that he’s got me tied in knots.

Auguste pulls back, a grin tugging at one side of his face. “Good.”

“Good?” What’s good? The way I’m so horny for him, I’m chafing my own thighs trying to contain it?

“Yeah, good, Snow. I like it wild,” he says with a sharp tug that fizzes all the way down to the apex of my thighs.

The tug is hard enough to tilt my head back. Gentle enough to make me wish he’d pull harder. Then he kisses me with a languid roll of his lips over mine and everything fuzzes around the edges except for the hot, wet twist of his tongue around mine.

Jesus Christ, I’m unraveling again and the night hasn’t even started.

“Are you ready?” Auguste hums across my lips with a slow lick.

“Mhmm.” I nod holding on to his waist while he pulls back, producing a colorful printed scarf from inside his suit jacket.

“You’re going to need this,” he tells me, moving behind me before he arranges the scarf over my hair, carefully tying it underneath my curls, leaving just the baby tendrils at the front free. “For the wind.”

With that he picks Samson up and takes him to his door. Giving him the affection he’s desperate for before he puts him down and gives him another biscuit.

“You have food and water, and I left the patio open for you to explore. Do not shit inside or piss on the rug. If you have to go, go on the grass pad. Okay?”

Samson tilts his head, giving him a curious stare.

“Behave.”

With that he shuts his door and then shuts mine because my brain is mush at this point. He has made me mush.

“Let’s go, Snow.” Auguste laces my hand with his, guiding me to the elevator and he doesn’t let go until he’s helping me into his car.