Page 57 of Twisted Play

Cole hummed. “I knew you were a slut.”

I winced at the words, jerking my head back as if he’d slapped me. “I’m not,” I protested, even as his fingers slipped deeper, diving between my folds and discovering how wet I already was. My pussy clenched every time he called me a slut, and even now, my hips twitched against the wall, desperate for him to fill me, to fuck me. If Tristan found us like this—god, he’d never understand. I hated this. I hated Cole. I hated myself.

He pulled his fingers out and held them up to my face. “We may have to agree to disagree on that one. I think a woman who gives a man a blow job at night then flirts with his best friend the next morning is definitely a slut.”

“I didn’t flirt with him,” I said, disappointed to hear my voice come out like a whine as he teased me with featherlight touches.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” he growled, sliding his soaked fingers over my lips. “Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this.”

Shame warring with desire, I licked his fingers, tasting myself, surprised at his moan when my tongue brushed against his skin.

“See?”

“Body betrayal is a whole fucking thing.” And mine was giving in to his expert touch, even as he confirmed how little he, or anyone else, valued me.

Cole hummed again and resumed his exploration of my folds, one hand wrapped around my throat, the other sliding through my pussy until he circled my clit and my hips jerked despite myself.

“And your body’s betraying you now?” he asked.

“Cole, please. We’re in the hallway. Dr. Parker’s going to catch us,” I begged. Tristan might walk out. Fuck! The last thing I needed was for anyone associated with the team to see Cole fingering me like a puck bunny. I’d never earn their respect.

“Do you want me to take this somewhere else?”

“I want you to stop.”

“No you don’t,” he said. “You want me to stroke your clit. You want me to slide my fingers deep into your pussy and fuck you roughly until you come. You want me to find your g-spot and make you see fucking stars. Because you’re a greedy little slut who likes being my fucktoy, who’s getting off on me playing with her wet pussy here in the hallway, where anyone could see.”

He slipped his fingers up and down my folds, touching me gently, never quite giving me the friction I needed. Cole’s thumb stroked my jaw, sending fire streaking across my skin.

God, maybe he was right. There was something wrong with me, something wrong with the fact that my body responded to his cruelty.

“Such a messy little slut,” he murmured. “Soaked for her tormentor, like you can’t get enough of the cruelty I dish out. Hot and wet and fucking gorgeous like this, with those green eyes full of tears and your cheeks flushed, your lips begging for me to shove my cock between them again.”

Before I could stop myself, my tongue poked out to lick my lips, the thought of sucking his cock not quite as disgusting as it should have been.

He changed his rhythm, sliding a finger into me.

I moaned, and his eyes widened with delight. “Oh, you like that, you gorgeous little toy?” he breathed. “Your pussy’s strangling my finger, clenching me like you’ll never let me go.”

My hips moved in time with his wrist, pumping against him, and I whimpered as pressure built in my core.

“Beg me for it,” he growled, and it was so fucking hot, I felt an answering throb in my clit.

“Fuck you,” I snarled, except it came out as a whine instead.

“I promise you, I will. But today, you’re going to prove to me you’re my greedy little toy.”

He changed his rhythm, stroking me harder, slower, building up my need but not letting me tip over into my climax.

“You’re going to beg me to slide another finger into this greedy pussy so you can fuck my hand. You’re going to beg me to let you grind your swollen clit against my palm, and you’re going to beg me to come.”

My answering snark flew out of my head when he scraped a finger against a spot inside me that made me see fucking stars.

“Nothing to say, sparrow?”

What could I say? My breath came in short gasps as I fucked his fingers. I needed to come. I needed him to let me come. I needed?—

He drew his hand away, and I whined in protest, wrapping my own fingers around his wrist and holding him against me.