Page 41 of Lawson
Lawson furrows his brow, his hazel eyes churning. “How can you say that?”
“When you get told often enough that you're not, you start to believe it.”
That muscle in Lawson’s jaw ticks again, and he closes his eyes as he lets out a low growl, leaning his forehead against mine, like he needs a moment to collect himself.
After he takes a breath, he leans back, slowly dragging his lips over mine.
“Your mouth is irresistible,” he says, and kisses me again. “It doesn't matter if you're barking drills at me or kissing me, I'm helpless against it.” His hands resume their roaming beneath my skirt, and he grips the globes of my ass, drawing me against him where he rests between my thighs.
I gasp at the contact, at the clear arousal hard beneath his pants brushing against me.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about getting my hands all over your beautiful body since the first time we kissed. It's all I can think about when we’re together,” he continues, each of his declarations doing everything to wind me tighter than I knew was possible.
No one has ever spoken to me like this, oraboutme like this, and it's making me absolutely dizzy.
“Blakely,” he says, his voice gruff. His hands are on my thighs, teasing just the insides of them. “You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen.”
His mouth crashes down on mine again, just as his right hand glides over my underwear.
I whimper at the contact, even though it's light and explorative right now.
“Fuck me,” he groans against my mouth. “You're wet,” he continues, holding my gaze. “Can I touch you?”
His question has my heart melting. I’m here, kissing him, begging him, and he still allows me a level of control I’ve never been given before.
“Please,” I beg.
His fingers slip beneath the fabric covering me. He brazenly drags his middle finger through my slit, and I gasp, arching slightly off the desk and into his touch.
“Goddamn,” he says. “Tell me how long you've been thinking about me, damsel.”
Damn him, how does he know? How can he read the reactions of my body and know that I've been thinking about him for much longer than I should’ve.
I reach for his mouth again, not wanting to answer, wanting to bury myself in his touch and in his kiss and in all thingsfantasy. He draws away slightly, a confident smirk on those damn impeccable lips of his.
He strokes me again, making me shiver, making my thighs clench around his hips. “How long?” he asks again, keeping his mouth just out of reach of mine, the game only making me want him more. He leans closer, flicking his tongue teasingly over my lips before drawing back, slipping his finger inside me an inch before drawing it back and circling it too lightly around my clit.
“How long, damsel?”
I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I try to get closer. I’m desperate for all the sensations he's creating inside me.
He dips his finger inside me again, dragging it out slower this time, his eyes never leaving my face.
More, I need more.
I arch into his hand, but he pulls it out of reach, that wolfish smirk deepening.
“Since that first night,” I say, my words rushed and breathless. “Since you kissed me.”
His smile widens. “Did you touch yourself after?” he asks, kissing me hard before pulling away. “Did you pretend your hand was mine?”
Lava streaks through my veins as he teases my wetness too lightly again.
“Yes,” I breathe the admission.
He bridges the small distance between us, claiming my mouth and sliding his finger inside of me at the same time.
I whimper, my hips instinctively bucking against his hand, wanting more—no,needingmore.