Page 125 of Scandalous Contract

“I want to be the one touching you,” he said. “I want to be between your thighs, tasting every inch of that pretty pussy.”

“Julian,” I whimpered, working my clit faster.

“My hand is on my cock right now, Stefanie. Stroking it slowly, imagining it’s your hand. Or better yet, that tight pussy of yours wrapped around me, squeezing me, milking me.”

I shivered, pulse racing. My fingers moved faster, body slick and needy, moans tumbling from my lips with every breath.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” he growled. “I can hear it. I canhearhow wet you are for me.”

“I am,” I breathed. “Julian... I’m so wet.”

“If I were there right now, I’d bury my face in your wetness and never come up for air,” he said. “I’d make you cum so many times you’d forget your own damn name.”

My body clenched. I was close, so close I could taste it. He must’ve known.

“Cum for me, Stefanie. Let me hear you fall apart. Say my name as you cum on your fingers.”

His words pushed me over the edge. And just like that, I came undone, moaning his name loudly as my body trembled.

“Julian,” I moaned again, shaking, nearly breathless as I rode the wave of pleasure he’d sent my way with his sinful words.

I let my hand fall from between my legs as the remnants of my orgasm faded, my chest still heaving, my body flushed and tingling. But it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. The ache was still there. A low, pulsing hunger that throbbed between my thighs.

One orgasm wasn’t going to do it. Not after hearing Julian's voice utter all that sexy shit. Not after feeling the heat of his words sliding over my skin as he told me how beautiful my pussy was. I wanted more. I needed more. I had to have more!

“I’m still needy,” I murmured, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice. “I need more.”

I turned to the side, body warm and sweaty against the sheets, and reached for my nightstand drawer. Since he wasn’t here, and since my fingers couldn’t do the trick, the only thing that I could do was whip out one of my handy-dandy toys.

I felt around in my drawer until I found a long, soft pink pouch. Discreet. Feminine. Dangerous. I pulled it out slowly and closed the drawer. I held it up for Julian to see.

“That’s cheating,” he whispered.

“No. It’s working with what I’ve got,” I countered, my voice low and breathy. “I need to cum again. I want to feel it build slowly and deeply this time. My fingers aren’t enough. I want to be pounded. I want to be wrecked. And this big guy will do the trick.”

His growl through the bear was downright sinful. My pussy throbbed, hungry for more. I was about to unzip the pouch when loud, violent banging sounded from the front door. I froze. Who the hell was at my front door?

And why did they choose to stop by at this moment? I started to ignore it until Julian spoke up again. His voice had changed. It was no longer soft, no longer seductive. It was now hungry, animalistic, rough.

“Open the fucking door, Stefanie,” he ordered, voice hard, commanding. “Now!”

Wait.“Is that you at my door?” I asked, eyes on the blinking light. “How...”

“Open the door. You’ve got five seconds before I break it down. One...”

Oh shit!

“Two...”

I barely had time to think or process what was happening. I snatched my robe from the bed, slipped it on without bothering to tie it, and hurried barefoot through the house.

“Three...”

This time, his voice was coming from in front of me. Julian was really on my front porch, counting down. I rushed to the security panel and punched in the code to turn it off.

“Four...”

I sprinted to the front door. My hands fumbled with the lock.Shit. Shit. Shit.