Page 54 of Take The Risk

​ I was suddenly kissing him back, sucking his tongue, desire fueling my movements. I was no longer sweet and soft beneath him. I was hungry.

​ His fingers slid between my swollen folds. He wrenched his mouth off mine with a curse. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

​His thumb circled my clit, his fingers sliding lower to my entrance, and I cried out so sharply I heard the sudden flap of wings as the owl nearby took flight. I didn’t care. I shifted restlessly beneath him, silently demanding what I couldn’t formulate the words for.

​Ty leaned down heavily, his head resting on the pillow in the hollow spot between my neck and shoulder. “Christ,” he swore, his teeth clamping down on the sensitive spot that had stars threatening to burst in my eyes. His finger teased me, sliding just inside, giving me just a taste.

​“Ty!” I gasped his name, desperation making any coherent thoughts impossible.

​Lifting his head, he gave me a dark look. “Need something?” He punctuated his words with a deliberate pinch on my clit that had me digging my nails into the back of his neck, marking him like I knew he marked me.

​“I need—” What did I need? I needed more. I needed his fingers inside me. His mouth on me. His body naked against mine. I needed it all.

​“You want more?” he challenged me, pinching my clit again, then sliding his fingers down to tease me. My pussy clenched hard in anticipation. He stared down at me. Any thought for how I looked or the fact I’d never, never, had a man look at me during any type of intimacy and how that should embarrass me was obsolete. The only thing I knew was the feel of his lips on my body, his hand between my thighs, so close to where I needed him.

​“Yes,” I managed, rolling my hips, trying to get his fingers to delve deeper, to stop tormenting me.

​“Beg me, baby.” His fingers dipped just slightly, his thumb swirling my clit. “Show me what a good girl you can be after weeks of teasing me. Beg me.” His voice was harsh, dominant. He was completely in control, but not enough I couldn’t hear his own need. His need for me.

​I shook my head, fighting a battle inside. I was strung so tight, I couldn’t think with each movement of his hand, of his lips on my skin as he leaned down, kissing my jaw. This was more than just pleasure, more than satisfying a need. If I gave in to him, to his demand, then I would lose the control I’d always told myself I needed to keep. I’d give in to the part of me that wanted to be taken and to let myself go, not worrying about holding a piece of me back in case I was wrong.

​“Say the words, scribbler.” He kissed his way up my neck, making sure I could see his face.

​Needing to hold onto something, I gripped his shoulders and flung myself off the proverbial cliff. “Please” tumbled out of my mouth. “Please fuck me with your fingers.” Later, I would be mortified by how easily I surrendered, how the butterflies that kept my brain in line had disappeared under the heat of his stare, leaving me to leap without really looking.

​My words snapped something inside of him. His fingers plunged inside me deeply, not gently, hard enough I knew I’d feel the burn tomorrow. He swallowed my cry with his mouth. His fingers were merciless as they hit the spot inside me that had pleasure skittering up my spine.

​“Does this feel like friendship?” he growled, his fingers pumping. “Does this feel ridiculous?” He pressed his cock against my thigh, where I could feel him pulsing inside his jeans. “Tell me, Phoebe. Will you call this merely friendship in the morning?”

​I could hear his frustration, the demand I acknowledge the truth that sat between us for weeks.

​He wasn’t finished. “When this sweet little pussy cums around my fingers, when your pussy is full of my cock, will you call this friendship?”

​His cock…

​My pussy clenched at the thought of having the hard piece of male flesh I felt grinding against my leg inside of me.

​“Fuck! You’re squeezing the hell out of my fingers. You want my cock, don’t you? You want to feel me so deep inside you that you’ll never get me out.”

​ I did. I wanted that. I wasn’t sure I could survive without it.

​“Tell me,” he all but snarled, his neck muscles corded tightly as he fought for control. My orgasm crested so close, just there, just out of reach. And Ty, the bastard, knew it, altering his touch, slowing his fingers, taking the pressure off my clit when I’d fly apart. “Tell. Me.”

​I thrashed my head as my last vestige of sense slid away. “No. This—this isn’t friendship.”

​“Good girl. Now come for me,” he ordered with another thrust of his fingers, and I couldn’t hold back. I shattered beneath him. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed through me. Ty never stopped pumping his fingers as he wrung every last drop of my orgasm from me.

​When I could see clearly, he pulled his hand out, sucking his fingers, which glistened with me, into his mouth. The need inside me sharpened, and suddenly I was desperate. I’d never seen anything as erotic as his eyes closing as he licked me from his fingers.

​My hands flew to his jeans, my fingers finding the button. My body wanted more already. I wanted the dark promise in his eyes. I wanted it all.

​“Mom?”

​My heart lodged in my throat. Before I knew what was happening, my shirt was pulled back down and I was yanked into a seated position, a second before the slide of the glass door revealed my sleepy son.

​“Hey, Ty,” he said around a yawn, coming onto the deck.

Ty was facing the backyard, his body tense, his hands gripping the railing until his knuckles were white. He turned just slightly, still keeping his body mostly away. “Hey, pal. Couldn’t sleep?”