Page 22 of Connor's Claim
He’d done this?
Of course he had. There was no other answer. In the night, Connor had been up to no good over my sleeping form. Strong emotion chased my surprise, but it wasn’t a negative one.
I should have been furious. Instead, I was turned on by the thought.
A short breath took steam into my lungs. My fingers slid down my body to between my legs, and I touched myself with the dried cum still on my hand. I was soaked and slippery, and I rubbed my clit, heat taking over all of me, and images of what he’d done appearing behind my now-closed eyes. God, this was depraved. I also didn’t care because a strange effect was in play.
Connor still owned the part of my brain that linked to my sexuality. He’d fucked his fist over my body and cut my clothes to reveal me to him. A moan left my lips, and I sank against the shower wall, widening my legs to allow better access. I wished I’d brought my vibrator in here with me, but too bad. This unexpected boost of instant horniness needed satiating and fast. There wasn’t the time to play around.
My wrist moved faster. Pleasure shot through me, every cell compelling me to continue. To get to where this was leading. The path he’d started me on.
“Oh God,” I moaned again, trying not to say his name though it was his body which filled my thoughts as much as the sound of the rushing hot water filled my ears.
His hard muscles. His inked skin. His jutting dick and his avid gaze on my chest.
It mixed up the old memories I’d nurtured and made new ones, the difference between teenaged Connor and the hard-edged man he’d become delightfully exciting. He was dangerous now, a criminal. He walked through barriers he should respect.
Kidnapped me.
Taunted me.
Came over me.
“God,” I breathed, and deep down, my insides tightened. Another few passes, and I was gasping in the humidity and losing control of my words. “Connor.”
My orgasm built and built but didn’t yet hit. I slowed my hand to delay it a little more, living for the incredible feeling eclipsing every other one. The desperate want. My lips, needing a kiss, my nipples, sensitive from the shower’s spray, my legs which ached to wrap around him
My pussy, desperate to be stretched.
“Time’s up.”
My heart stopped. Frozen mid-touch, I jerked my gaze up. At the bathroom entrance, with his back to the closed door, Connor watched me. Our gazes collided.
God, when had he come in? How much had he seen or heard? The glass was steamed up, but there was no way he could’ve missed me in action. My hand was still between my legs.
I pressed my trembling lips together, my body shaking from the interruption. I clung to the precipice, unable to fall but losing my grip on the crumbling ledge.
Deliberately, he drew his attention over me. Then he pulled his hand from behind his back. And held out my vibrator. Switched it on.
My breathing shuddered.
He approached and opened the shower door with a swirl of mist. Handed me the sex toy.
Then the jerk lifted his chin. “Fuck yourself, Everly. So I can see.”
I gritted my teeth. Badly, I wanted to order him to leave, but at the same second, and with even greater force, I needed him to stay.
Reaching out, I snatched it from him and fitted it between my legs. I didn’t wait, thrusting it inside me. My body was so wet and ready, even more slick with arousal from his rude interruption.
The vibrator stretched me, the pulsing set on high, and I gasped, taking my thumb to the switch to reduce the intensity.
“Don’t ye dare,” Connor warned.
“It’s too much.”
“Take it.”
Fine.I needed to come. If he wanted to watch, that was on him. Mindless, I closed my eyes and rested back against the wall, my foot raised on the shelf, and my body entirely on display for him. Then I fucked myself with the toy.