Page 51 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)
I shake my head. “I know I should be, but Liam’s told me the same things over and over. I feel… relieved I don’t have to deal with him anymore. I also feel like I want to jump your bones.”
“Yeah? My fiancée’s feeling a little hot and bothered?” He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Is your pussy needy for me?”
I can’t help the whimper that escapes my throat. Yes. Yes, I am needy for him.
I nod my head in response worried what might come out of my mouth if I speak.
Morgan gives me a rakish smirk. “You’re off the clock in ten minutes. Then I’ll take you home.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll bring you back tomorrow to grab your car, don’t you worry about it, Butterfly.”
Morgan takes a seat in the lobby of the library, and I head back to my office, wishing time would go just a little bit faster.
Janine and Sage are waiting for me when I get back and insist I tell them the details of what happened, even though I’m pretty sure they were watching the whole thing go down. Sage offers, again, to slash his tires, and Janine says she knows a witch who can put a spell on him to make him impotent.
As tempting as those offers are, my brain is solely on the man waiting to take me home and ravish me, so I decline and ask Janine to leave a few minutes early. She agrees, so I clock out, gather my stuff, and rush out to my future husband.
“Janine let me leave early, let’s go.” I grab his hand, pulling him out the door and to the car.
“Someone’s eager to get home,” Morgan teases. We make it to the car, and I wait for him to unlock it, but instead he cages my body between his and the car, framing my jaw with his big hands.
God, I love his hands.
“What if I planned to take you out on a date, Butterfly? Wine and dine you then take you home and make love to you slow and sweet.”
“I need you now,” I whine.
“Get in the car, Hannah. We’re going out on a date.” He steps back and unlocks the car, opening my door for me as I pout. I get in and buckle.
Morgan rounds the car and gets in, then starts pulling out of the parking lot.
“Show me.”
I turn and look at him, confused. “What?”
“Show me how needy you are for me, Butterfly. Spread your legs, and show me if your pussy is wet.”
“But you’re driving,” I protest, even as I inch my dress up my thighs.
Morgan thinks about that for a second, then turns off of the main road and down a street that leads to—of all things—a Mormon church building.
He pulls into the empty parking lot, and I’m grateful this area is surrounded by trees.
“I would never risk you or our girls’ safety, but I can’t wait long enough to take you home and lay you out properly.
You’ll have to get off on my fingers now, then I’ll fuck you properly later. ”
Fuck me, this man is all sorts of hot. How did I end up with such a sweet, gentle man who talks so fucking dirty?
I scoot my chair back as far as it can go and prop one leg up on the dashboard, hiking my dress up further to show him my underwear with a tiny wet spot on it. It’s not easy with my big belly, but I’m determined to make it work.
“Mmm. That’s my girl. Move your panties over.” He slides a hand up my bare thigh, his fingers toying with the edge of my panties.
I slide them to the side, and he swears under his breath. His fingers trace the seam of my sex, gathering the bit of wetness there and dragging his fingers back up to my clit.
“What made you so wet, Butterfly?”
“Seeing you be all protective. But I’ve been horny all day thinking about how good you make me feel.” I gasp as one thick finger slowly circles my clit.
“You like that I’ll take care of you? You like me claiming you as mine?”
“Yes!” I moan when he increases the pressure.
“Good. Because you are mine, Hannah. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Spread your legs a little further for me, Butterfly.”
I do as he says, and he slowly inserts two fingers into my pussy, the palm of his hand grinding into my clit.
“Ride my fingers, make yourself come. If you don’t come soon, you’ll have to wait until we get home tonight.”
I start to grind against his hand, picking up speed while he matches my rhythm stroke for stroke. He keeps the pressure on my clit with his palm, and my orgasm crescendos quicker than I thought it would.
“That’s it, Butterfly. My pregnant fiancée riding my fingers looks so fucking pretty. You gonna come for me? Make a mess on my hand?” Morgan groans.
“Yes, Morgan. Please!” I don’t know why I’m begging, he already told me it was up to me to come.
“Let me see you fall apart,” he demands.
“Oh God, I’m coming!” I shout as the waves of pleasure crash over me, and I come around Morgan’s fingers.
“Fuck yes, that’s so fucking beautiful, Butterfly.” Morgan works me through my orgasm and pulls out his fingers slowly once I’ve stopped writhing against his hand.
I whimper at the loss then watch with rapt attention as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks the arousal from them, moaning like he’s eating the most decadent dessert.
It’s much hotter than it logically should be.
Morgan opens the center console, pulls out a pack of baby wipes, and hands them to me to clean up as best as I can. I discard them in the little trash can he keeps in the car, and put the wipes away.
“Why do you have diaper wipes even though Aly’s nine?”
“You’ll soon find out diaper wipes are a godsend with kids of all ages, and it’s crucial to have them everywhere, ” he explains.
We pull back out onto the main road, drive for a few minutes, and pull up in front of a little strip mall.
“What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see. Come on, we have an appointment.”