Page 43 of Puck
I let go of his beard and tried to shift away from his touch.
He didn’t quite let that happen, though. He leaned into me, and his beard tickled my ear. “Keep pretending you don’t want it, Colbie. I’m enjoying our little game.”
“I’m not pretending,” I whispered.
His fingers had crept higher yet, and now my heart was pitter-pattering in my chest, and my thighs were tingling, and I couldn’t quite make myself close my legs to keep him away. His teeth latched onto my earlobe, and his tongue flicked, and his breath was hot, and I had to catch my lip between my teeth to keep from letting out the moan bubbling up in my throat.
“Puck . . .” I whispered.
Higher, higher. A fingertip nudged and brushed against the gusset of my underwear.
“What, Colbie?” he whispered back.
“Don’t.”
He hooked his finger inside the gusset, tugged it aside, and I had to swallow a gasp.
His whisper was hot against my ear. “Don’t what?”
“Stop . . .” The word was more of a moan than a word.
“Is that a ‘please stop’ or a ‘please don’t stop’?” He brushed his fingertip against my slit. “I’m not quite clear.”
That little grazing touch, the nudge of his finger against my swollen nether lips . . . god, it was too much. And not enough. But I still refused to give in to the begging I knew he was trying to get out of me.
I clenched my hands into fists and ground my molars together. Forced my eyes to stay open and locked on Puck’s. I was torn between wanting to knock his hand away to prove that I could, and wanting to scooch lower in the seat and widen my thighs so he could touch me more. So, I remained frozen, not moving an inch, barely breathing, neither helping nor hindering.
He was amused, his brown eyes twinkling, searching mine, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “You’re a stubborn one, Colbie.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
He’d worked his fingertip between the lips, and my heart was hammering, and I was aching, and I felt wetness flooding me. I knew he had to feel that, feel how wet I was. Especially when he wiggled that finger deeper, deeper, until he was knuckle-deep inside me. Oh . . . oh shit. Shit. That felt good, so good, too good. And then he slid that finger out, and I think I may have let out a little sound, something like a cross between a mewl of pleasure and a growl of irritation. One finger, just one stupid, talented finger, and he had me clutching my knees with all my strength in an effort to keep from writhing, had me biting down on my lip so hard it hurt.
Thankfully, the cabin of the aircraft was pretty noisy, which worked to drown out the sounds I was making, sounds I couldn’t help at that point. He was doing something to me, some sort of witchery. Sex magic, or something. Just a single digit, one stupid fucking finger, but I was going nuts, squirming, biting my tongue—literally. Sliding it in, then out, slowly, achingly slow, then back in, curling, rubbing deep inside me, then flicking upward, his finger now wet with my essence, to smear over the hard button of my clit.
No hurry. Just a slow exploration of my sex with one thick, talented finger. I let my head fall back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering, chest heaving, thighs quivering. It wasn’t enough. Dammit, dammit, dammit—it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I was close, so close, I was teetering on the edge, shuddering on the brink, and he was so unhurried, just sliding that finger in and out, occasionally brushing my clit, and fucking hell, he had to know, hehadto know he was driving me crazy, that I wouldn’t be able to come until he gave me more, gave me the pressure and friction against my clit. He knew. The bastard, he knew.
“Puck,” I whispered. “Dammit, Puck.”
He didn’t quite laugh, but I could hear the aroused, pleased mirth in his voice, saw it in his eyes when I turned my head to stare him down. “What, Colbie?” He plunged his finger into me, and I bit down on my lip to suppress a gasp. “You want something, all you gotta do is say so.”
“No.”
He did laugh that time. “Stubborn girl.”
Make me, I wanted to say.Make me beg. Take control from me. But I couldn’t say it. The whole point was I wanted him to take it without having to be told.
God, that sounded stupid and manipulative even to myself, but I wasn’t backing down on it. Wouldn’t. So I bit my lip and forced my breathing to slow down, and kept the moans locked down inside me, and forced myself to stay still, and refused to ask him to make me come.
“You have no idea,” was what I whispered back to him.
He made a sound that was halfway between anhmmof interest and a laugh of amusement. “Good thing I love a challenge, huh?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, “good thing.”
He leaned close again, his lips nuzzling my ear. “I can feel how close you are, Colbie. You want it, don’t you?” He gave me a tiny but potent nudge to the clit, enough to make me flinch as a bolt of zinging pleasure shot through me. “You’re crazy sensitive. A few little circles, and you’ll be coming all over my hand. But you’re so stubborn. You won’t give in, will you?”