Page 69 of Off Limits Mogul

That would be wrong. And a little perverted.

As I weigh the war raging inside me, his loaded words from earlier ring in my ears.

“You can’t ever––and shouldn’t try––to imitate a woman’s natural, glorious scent.”

The ache between my legs intensifies.

I squeeze my thighs together, moaning.

The recurring fantasy of Rhys bringing me to orgasm with his mouth is within reach. The realization is overwhelming. We’ve never talked about anything sexual before––other than him echoing my protective big brother’s advice to remain a virgin until I was thirty.

We crossed a line today.

I need release.

The idea of solo-play under Rhys’s roof is a little taboo. Unthinkable, even.

Fuck it.

My hand slides between my legs. When my fingers tease my pussy lips, I tilt my head back with a long exhale. Impatient, I stroke my engorged clit, moaning out my pleasure before applying more pressure.

Bless leather pants.

That was quite an eyeful. I was ready to drop to my knees and beg him to reveal what I suspect is a huge, thick, pulsing cock.

Damn.

I trace circles around my swollen, throbbing clit, relishing each revolution. I switch it up with rapid side-to-side movements before slapping my pussy, crying out with bliss.

A forbidden thrill courses through me.

I wish he were here with me under the spray of the water.

I’d wash his dirty parts… he’d wash mine.

I’d much prefer his hands against my clit, bringing me to orgasm. I’d return the favor with my hand pumping his cock. Unless he prefers me to use my mouth. I’m okay either way. The idea is so intoxicating, I place a hand flat against the tiles to steady myself.

I need more.

My fingers skate faster over my clit as I moan. I ease two fingers inside my pussy, sinking them all the way in, filling me. I let out a strangled cry at the intrusion as my muscles contract. I curl my fingers up and pump in and out in a slow, sinful rhythm.

This is so intense.

I’ve pleasured myself hundreds of times thinking of him, but he’s never been this close.

I pick up speed.

I’m there. I’m so fucking there.

Dear God?—

A knock at the door—as I’m about to dive off the cliff—interrupts my naughty solo session.

I shriek.

“Mom invited us over for dinner tonight.” Rhys’s voice booms from the other side of the door. “Hurry up.”

There’s nothing like the mention of your fantasy’s mother to kill a perfectly good orgasm.