Page 48 of Personal Foul

A little breathy gasp escapes her.

“You like thinking about that?” I ask. Because, fuck, I do. I want it. Need it. The second she says.

“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed. “I’m so close though.”

“What do you need?”

“Faster. Rougher. Please.”

“I love the way you say, please.” I smile. “Can you do me a favor, if I say please?”

“What’s that?” she whispers.

“Say my name when you come. I want to hear you say it like this.”

Her eyes flutter open and meet mine. They’re heavy and her lids are low. So-fucking-sexy and undone like this.

“Please,” I add.

She gives me a little nod as she closes her eyes again, and I give her what she asked for, giving her clit rougher strokes as I pump my fingers in and out of her at a faster pace.

“Oh, please. Just a little more. There,” she sighs and then gives a little gasp when I hit her at just the right rhythm.

“Easton… Fuck. Easton… Please,” she repeats my name over and over again as her climax hits her. And I just watch her, dumbstruck because I feel something splitting as she says it. Ripping me open in a slow meticulous fashion with each repeat, and I’m asking for it. Craving it until I don’t know who she’s turning me into.

I watch her come down from the high, her breath coming in more even beats and her eyes refocusing on the present moment. She slides off my lap and curls her legs under her on the couch next to me, and we sit in the quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to go back up?” she asks, at last, nodding toward the party we’d left behind.

“No. I think I’m good.”

Any other girl and I’d be dying to go back out. I wouldn’t want to talk. I’d want to go party. Have more to drink. Maybe even find another woman. But with Wren, I just want more of her.

“Ah. Okay.” She smiles and reaches down for her shoes and underwear on the floor.

“We probably need to get back. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

“And we probably need to come up with a cover story that’s believable for where we were today.” She smirks at me, and I love it.

* * *

When we get backto the room, she pulls me in behind her and kisses me against the wall, giggling and running her hands over my chest.

“Are you sure? You don’t want to rail me over the couch or something?”

“I’m sure. I told you we’re supposed to be taking things slow. This is only our second date.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun. But fine! Can our second date include some of that chocolate cake I just saw being wheeled into the room down the hall because it looks amazing, and I feel like I need to eat something after all those shots?”

“Yeah, we can get you some cake. I’ll order it in a minute.” I smile at her because I can’t remember a time when I saw her as happy and carefree as she is now. And the ice-cold organ in my chest is ridiculous enough to hope I’m part of the reason for it.

“All right. And you’re sure you don’t want to take a shower with me?” she offers, looking back over her shoulder as she takes her coat off. “It can be hands-off.”

“We already tried that once. We know how that ended—with me inside you. And again,slow, Princess.”

“You’re so mean. Making me shower alone.”

“Hurry, and then I can get one after you before the cake gets here.” I give her a soft pat on the butt, and she hurries to the bathroom.