Page 43 of Almost Enough
“What do you want, Red?” His voice is low, controlled, even as his fingers slide through my wetness. “Tell me.”
“I want you to touch me,” I gasp, my hips trying to chase his touch.
“I am touching you. Be specific.” His finger dips inside me, just a tease of a stroke, before withdrawing. “Like this?”
“More,” I whimper. “Please.”
“Say please again. Slower. Make it sweet.”
His words go straight to the molten heat coiling low in my stomach. I swallow hard, my voice breaking on the need building inside me. “Please,” I whisper, slower this time, letting it drip from my lips like honey. “Please, sir.”
His breath hitches, barely, but I feel it. I feel the way his composure cracks.
“Just like that,” he growls.
He gives me what I ask for, one finger sliding deep inside me and curling to hit that perfect spot. I might die. Or combust. Or both.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my neck.
His thumb circles my clit, and I’m already climbing, already so close to the edge. His other hand grips my hip, holding me still against the wall.
“Please,” I gasp, feeling the tension building. “Please, I need—”
His fingers still immediately. “What you need,” he growls against my ear, “is to learn patience.”
He withdraws his touch completely, and I nearly sob at the loss. My body throbs with need, so close to release that the sudden absence of his fingers leaves me trembling.
“Beau, please—”
“No.” His voice is steel now. “I don’t think so, Whitley.”
He slides his fingers back inside me, working me up again with devastating precision. My breath comes in short gasps as he brings me right to the edge, so close I can feel the tension coiling tight, ready to snap.
Then he stops again.
“Oh my god,” I whimper, my forehead pressed against the cool stone wall. “You can’t—”
“I can,” he says simply. “And I will.”
For a third time, he brings me to the precipice, his skilled fingers playing me like an instrument, his breath hot against my neck. My legs shake, my entire body wound so tight I might shatter. Just as the first tremors of release begin to build, he pulls away again.
I’m panting now, desperate and needy. “You’re cruel,” I gasp. I’m strung so tight with need I could snap.
“Not cruel, Red. Just showing you how to behave.”
Before I can say another word, he spins me to face him, and the world tilts on its axis. Shadow and moonlight dance over his sharp jaw and unreadable eyes. One hand stays firm on my hip, the other brushing along my jaw with a gentleness that makes my heart ache.
“When I let you come,” he says, voice rough like gravel and sin, “it won’t be because you batted your lashes in front of a room full of people. It’ll be because you earned it.”
I blink up at him, breath catching. “So this is about control?”
His thumb drags across my bottom lip. “This is about knowing the difference between teasing and testing. And knowing exactly what happens when you push too far.”
My stomach flips, pulse hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His thumb drags across my bottom lip. “I wasn’t testing you,” I whisper, though we both know that’s a lie.
The corner of his mouth lifts in something that’s almost a smile. “Yes, you were.”
He’s right. Of course he is. I was absolutely testing him, pushing every boundary just to see what he’d do. And now I’m paying the price—standing here, throbbing with need, my body screaming for release while he looks at me like he has all the time in the world.
