“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me who you were thinking of.”
“No one,” I say though I know he will see through the lie.
“Don’t lie to me, kitten. I don’t like it.”
I lick my lips. “I had you wrong,” I tease. “I thought you were a nice guy. I made you eggs one morning, remember? I never thought that the nice guy I shared breakfast with would have—”
“Would have what?”
“Would have watched me finger fuck myself,” I finish boldly.
“Watch?” he repeats as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of my chaise. His hip brushes the bare skin of my waist, making me hyperaware of his proximity. “I did more than watch, sweetheart.” He lifts my hand, then strokes it slowly, making me even more crazy in the process.
“I imagined that these fingers were mine. That it was me stroking your skin, sliding under your suit.” He moves my hand to my belly as he speaks, then he places his own hand flat on the back of mine before easing our joined hands down.
“Do you have any idea how hard I got imagining how slick you were, how tight your cunt was?” He guides two of my fingers inside me, and I gasp in pleasure and surprise as he pushes them deeper and deeper.
“Please,” I beg, but I don’t even know what I am asking for. I am a wild mess of feelings, hot and out of control. I want to come. I want to explode. I want his hands all over me.
“That’s it,” he says as I thrust my hips shamelessly, wanting more. Wanting everything. “Oh, yes. You like that, don’t you, kitten?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “God yes.” And yet I don’t know this woman—this girl who melts at a man’s voice, who submits to his whims. The Jamie I know keeps control by keeping a tight grip on a man’s cock and leading him around with it like a leash. But this Jamie—oh, dear god, right then all this Jamie wants to do is surrender to pleasure.
He is only tormenting me, though, a sad fact I realize when he withdraws my fingers, then tugs our joined hands free. Then he raises my hand to his lips, and I begin to melt again as he draws my finger in, sucking and licking with such deliberate intensity that I can feel the tug of pressure all the way down to my clit.
“Am I a nice guy?” he asks as he releases my hand. “I don’t know, Jamie. I guess that’s up to you. If you need a nice guy, I’ll be a nice guy. But I don’t think that’s what you need right now.”
I try to speak, but can’t seem to manage. I swallow, then try again. “What do I need?”
But he says nothing. He just smiles. And, honestly, he’s turned me into such a confused and emotional mess that I’m not sure if I want to kiss him or slap him.
I don’t like being confused, and my discomfort makes me bold. I prop myself up on my elbows. “What the hell kind of a game are you playing?”
“Who says I’m playing a game?”
“I do.”
He cocks his head. “All right. Why?”
“I seem to recall you saying no to me on the beach. And yet here you are.”
“Yes,” he says. “Here I am.”
“Ryan.”
He shakes his head, then strokes a finger along the line of my jaw. It’s a familiar, almost sweet gesture, and it unnerves me. “You called me Hunter before you knew I was watching. I liked it.”
“Ryan,” I say again firmly. “What’s your fucking game?”
He looks at me for so long I start to wonder if I should just call it a wrap and go inside. “Do you know why I said no?” he finally says.
I shake my head.
“Because I’ve watched you, Jamie. Watched and wanted. I want to kiss you, to touch you. I want to fuck you, Jamie, but I want so much more than that, too.”
“What?” I ask, mesmerized by his words.
“Everything,” he says simply. “I want to tie you up and fuck you until you beg for mercy. I want to use my palm to redden that ass—because we both know how naughty you’ve been. I want to make you come so fast and so hard that you scream, and then do it all over again.”