Page 76 of Handsome Devil

Gulping, I shook my head. “I don’t want chitchat either.”

“What do you want then?”

“An orgasm,” I admitted. I’d never been this forward before. Not that anything was wrong with it. It just wasn’t me. “I’m in knots. I want…I want…”

You.

“I will give this to you,” he said, no hesitation, no judgment. “Come here, sweets.”

Sweets.

The word caressed my skin, spreading a delicious sensation in its wake. He’d rarely called me anything darling. Even Apricity was tainted with derision.

I advanced toward him until I reached the edge of his desk. He opened his palm. After a moment’s hesitation, I put my hand in his. Still sitting, he guided me to stand in front of him, my bum resting on the edge of his desk.

“Close your eyes.”

“I already can’t se—”

“Close them,” he repeated.

I did, a thrill of something dangerous and decadent shooting through me. I was completely at his mercy.

What a terrible place to be.

“Keep them closed. If I catch you cheating, I will bring you to the brink and deprive you of your climax. You don’t want that.”

My body was as tight as a bowstring, attuned, craving his next touch, wherever it might land.

I felt his fingers wrapping around my bracelet and sucked in a breath in surprise.

“Tell me about this one,” he murmured, his voice closer, his mouth a breath away from mine. His knee nudged my legs open, spreading me wide.

Heat rushed to my center, and my hips rolled instinctively, my inner muscles squeezing against nothing.

“I’ve never seen you without it.”

His whiskey-tinted breath fanned against my bare neck, and every cell in my body awakened with desire.

I heard a drawer open to my right, and Tate rummaged for something. My throat worked as I tried concentrating on his question.

“My father made it for me.” I licked my lips. “In Jamaica. We used to go on holidays there often. Whenever we could.”

Tate finally picked what he was looking for and closed the drawer silently. My pulse skyrocketed. His cock was now pressed between my legs, which had opened farther on their own accord sometime during our conversation, welcoming him in. It was hot and hard and thick through our clothes.

“We used to collect seashells on the beach together. We did that for hours. When I found this incredibly rare seashell, I was delighted. TheScaphella junoniaonly washes ashore after rough storms. Juno was queen of the Roman gods, married to Jupiter. So this shell represents her and symbolizes strength and power, grace and self-sufficiency. My dad made it into a bracelet for me. Gifted it to me on our last Christmas together. It always reminded me I could get through the hard times.”

“Where in Jamaica?” Tate kept the conversation going to distract me from what he was doing. His hands were nowhere on me, but he was grinding slowly against my core, which sparked fissures of pleasure all over my skin.

“Negril. Half Moon Beach, Green Island.”

Christ.I didn’t want to come from his penis rubbing my clit through our clothes, but I already felt my muscles quaking and tightening.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

His mouth was now directly against my lips. I could taste his cigarette, his whiskey, his desire on my own tongue. I wanted him to kiss me. My entire body clenched in expectation.

“Y-yes,” I admitted. “I do.”