Page 104 of Revenge Puck

Blows on it.

Heat explodes straight down my spine.

My fingers sink into his hair, guiding his head closer, begging for more without saying the words out loud.

I can’t.

I’m too self-conscious. Too shy.

Aaron hums, and the vibration has my back arching again. Has me so close to pleading.

Simpering.

“Oh my god,” I whisper when his palm slides over my breast, thumb circling lazily before giving a squeeze, balancing giving me pleasure with maddening control.

My hands fall from his hair to his chest, palms smoothing over solid muscle, feeling the heat of him through the thin cotton. I need to touch him the way he’s touching me. I need to know if he’s as affected by me as I am by him.

My fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, trace upward over his deliciously warm skin, over the hard lines of his abs.

He inhales sharply.

Groans when I reach for his belt.

“I’m so fucking hard,” he murmurs. “Jesus.”

The confession sends a wave of triumph through me, and I bask in it at the same time I work his buckle, clumsy from lack of experience. He shifts to give me better access, one hand gripping my hip, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

Aaron groans loudly when my hands go to the waistband of his boxers, teasing the skin beneath it, ready to tug his jeans down. Ready to feel the weight of him in my hand.

To stroke him.

My mouth waters for it.

I continue teasing him, hand sliding farther inside his boxers as he drags his mouth upward over my body, tongue dragging over my sternum, over my collarbone, to my throat. Teeth scrape lightly at my pulse point before he sucks there, slow and deliberate.

My head tips back again.

He exhales sharply.

His hands slide down to my waist now, fingers hooking into the waistband of my jeans.

“Can we please get these off? I want to fuck you so goddamn bad.”

“Yes,” I acquiesce, wanting him inside me so much I taste the desire in my mouth.

His fingers begin working at my buttons?—

His phone rings.

He ignores it, pulling down my zipper with awhirr…

The cell continues buzzing and vibrating against the counter behind us, jarring and obnoxious and out of place among our frantic panting and fumbling.

It rings again.

He still doesn’t answer, my pants halfway down my thighs.

The third time, it’s immediate. There is no pause between calls.