“I…I don’t.”
His eyes are like burning embers, his voice throaty and low. “Never?”
He glides his thumb across a part of me that makes me buck against his hand.
Well, not never. But growing up like I did, I didn’t have a lot of time to experiment with my body. When I did, I was never able to make myself orgasm. Even with the locks on my door and all the sex tips the drug store magazines had to offer, I could never relax enough to take the time I needed to climax.
But I’m panting now, terrified and turned on at the same time. I’ve never felt desire like this. He rubs me with his thumb again, more firmly this time.
I moan, and a look of absolute possession crosses his face. I like that he feels so strongly about me even though I know it’s stupid.
“Have you ever come before, Sasha? Do you know what that feels like?” His mouth is inches from mine.
“Please,” I beg, though I’m still not sure what I’m asking him for.
“I need to show you who’s in control.” His voice is husky. “Show you what happens when you disobey me.”
Is this supposed to be a deterrent? That’s not what it feels like. I want to feel more of the pleasure his touch is building in me.
His grip tightens on my wrists, and his other hand pushes deeper into my center. I make a noise that’s more animal than human, and he groans.
“God, you’re tight. Definitely a virgin.” He strokes my inner walls, and I tremble beneath him. His thumb targets that same spot again and again at the top of my pussy, rubbing in tight circles, and it feels incredible. My eyes drift to his crotch. How would that feel inside me? Would it feel this good? Better?
“You’re dripping wet, though.” His finger thrusts in and out of me while his thumb works my clit. Now I understood what all the magazines were going on about. He rubs me harder, faster, but then thrusts a second finger inside me. It hurts, and I let out a pathetic squeak.
“Fucking Christ.” He eases his fingers out of me and concentrates on pinching and stroking my clit. The pressure is intense, and I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to snap in half when a wave of pleasure rips through me, and I buck wildly against him, giving in to the power of it. He slips a finger back inside me, my inner walls squeezing him.
He strokes me through it, that same fierce look in his eyes. My breath comes in soft pants as I shiver beneath him.
“Did that feel good?” he rasps, his mouth against my ear.
“Yes.” I’m too vulnerable to say otherwise. I’m ashamed at how good it felt. And at how I want him to keep touching me.
He smiles at my submission, and I hate myself for it.
“I like making you feel like this, Sasha. I can make you feel even better.” He strokes me a few more times. “Next time I’m going to bury my cock so deep inside this tight pussy,” he says, pushing on my clit. “Better that you don’t piss me off again.”
He pulls his hand away, licks his fingers, and climbs off of me, leaving me damp and panting on his couch.
8
Finn
God, that was fun. Who does that woman think she’s dealing with? Sasha’s innocence would’ve made her ridiculous ruse work on anyone else, but me? I saw right through that fake card.
I’d been livid. I hadn’t planned on touching her like that, but the way those full lips of hers trembled as she tried to lie to me? The way her breasts heaved as she fought to catch her breath?
It didn’t leave me with much choice.
Still, I wouldn’t have pushed things if she hadn’t been willing. When she didn’t take me up on the offer to stop? No way I wasn’t going to make her come on my fingers. Not after I saw the desire in her eyes mirroring my own.
And I’d be sure to remind her of it. Make her blush. Make her give me what I want—just a name. And maybe something more. The business part of this is irritating, but the seduction part is better than I could’ve imagined.
I sit in the armchair by the window in my office. It’s dark before five, though even now we’re gaining daylight
I’ll go check on Sasha in a few minutes, but I want to give her some time to come down and think carefully about her next steps.
God, she’d tasted sweet on my fingers. Normally I stay away from virgins if possible. They always get attached. I don’t blame them—society puts far too much pressure on women to save themselves for some mythical perfect man.
Doesn’t mean I want to deal with the fallout, though.
Still, seeing Sasha all wide-eyed beneath me, hungry for something only I could give her?
The desire to possess her had been almost too much, and I’d forgotten to take it slow. Pulling my fingers out of that tight pussy of hers had been hell, but I didn’t want to hurt her, not like that.
I never hurt women in bed unless they ask me nicely.
The whole “it hurts to lose your virginity” thing is mostly because horny teenage boys move too fast on scared, dry women and are more interested in coming in thirty seconds than in drawing out their partner’s pleasure.
I’ve been called selfish many times, rightfully, but never when it comes to sex.
No, I’ll make sure Sasha feels good through the entire experience.
I’ll have to be better at controlling myself. Something about her makes it hard, though.
I find her sitting on a fake sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace about a half hour later. Real sheepskin may be more authentic, but it’s disgusting and a bitch to clean. Not that I’d do it myself. She looks at me with those wide hazel eyes as I lean over and switch the gas on. She has one knee tucked against her chest, her injured leg stretched out in front of her. I find myself suddenly wanting to kiss her.
“You cold?”
She nods and looks down at the ground.
“You could’ve turned this on,” I say. “You’re my guest, after all. I don’t want you freezing to death.”
“Your manners are astounding.”
I have to admit, as much as I like her submission, I like her fire too. Makes the submission even sweeter.
“Aren’t they?” I ask, sitting on the couch, right where she was when I came in. Her eyes follow me and that blush I expected colors her fair cheeks.
“You really are lovely when you blush.” I stop myself from asking her if she’s someone who flushes all over. Slowly, Finn.
Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t believe me. It’s tragic. She is very attractive, even in that hideous purple sweater and cheap synthetic slacks.
I’ll have to dress her up for the gala.
“I understand you were frightened.” I lean forward. “But how can we work together if I can’t trust you?”
“Trust me?” she hisses. “You’re the one holding all the cards.”
“You have some cards too, love. Probably back in your office. Real ones. Not fake ones like you tried to pass off.”
She rubs her shin.
“Your brother seems like a nice young man. Lots of potential.”
“Leave my brother out of this.” Her voice is angry, but fear creeps in at the edges.
“He wants to find the men who hurt you. I could give him that.”