Free Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8) by Olivia Cunning Page B

that grabbed him by the balls and demanded he take everything he wanted from her.
    “I can imagine your tongue flicking over a tip,” she said, “before you suck it into your hot, wet mouth.”
    He could imagine that too. And he was wondering why he was standing at the end of the bed with a hard-on while they discussed such delights rather than actually acting on his desires.
    “I’d slide one hand down your smooth belly,” he said. “Slow. Gentle. Drawing goose bumps to the surface.”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “God, you have the sexiest voice. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”
    He grinned, silently thanking the universe for the gift he’d been given. “Are you quivering, Amanda?”
    “A little. I’d be quivering more if it were your hand instead of my own teasing my skin. Touching me. Stroking. Mmm. Feels good.”
    It occurred to him that she was testing his resolve. He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be stretched so far beyond his limit that he’d devour her, but she was quickly working him up to such a state.
    “Slowly I’d move my hand closer to that sweet pussy between your thighs.”
    “Mmm.”
    “Closer.”
    “Yes, Jacob.”
    He loved when she called his name. His real name. Most of his lovers called him Shade.
    “But I wouldn’t touch it,” he said. “Not yet.”
    “Please.”
    “I’d brush the backs of my fingers against the curve of your hip. Light touches. Slow and easy to make you squirm. Then I’d jerk your thighs apart and—”
    He heard a sound much too wet to be her stroking her hip. He smirked at her apparent haste. “Amanda, are you cheating?”
    “Why don’t you turn on the light and find out?”
    He almost tripped over the jeans circling his ankles in his haste to find the light switch. He kicked them aside impatiently and turned on the light. When his eyes adjusted to the glare, he found her in a position that far surpassed what he’d been imagining.
    She had one breast gripped in her hand, her painted fingertips twisting desperately at her pebbled nipple. Her other hand was between her splayed legs. Her panties had vanished, so no imagination was required on his part. He could see exactly what she was doing to herself. Her ring finger and middle finger worked her slick pussy, delving deep and stretching herself in wide arcs. Her little finger popped in and out of her ass. Her thumb massaged her clit in desperate, rapid strokes. She rocked her hips into her hand and lifted her head from the bed as her body shuddered with pleasure.
    Jacob stood at the end of the bed—mouth dry, balls tight, feet rooted to the floor—and watched her stunning performance.
    “This is what I wanted to record for you while I waited in your bed,” she said, gasping as her pinkie finger slid deeper. “I was going to send you a dirty video on your phone to keep you company on your plane ride.”
    He didn’t look at her face, couldn’t draw his gaze from the sight of her manicured fingers disappearing and reappearing as she plunged them in and out of her pussy. What was it that was so sexy about a woman’s fingers pleasing a pussy? Her own or another woman’s, he was absolutely riveted by the sight.
    “I prefer live performances,” he mumbled, surprised he could form a coherent sentence.
    Amanda’s thighs began to shake. Was she going to come? He glanced up to her face for cues and found her staring at him.
    “How long do I have to keep this up before you take over?” she asked.
    He grinned. “You seem to be doing fine on your own.”
    “I think you can do better.”
    He glanced down between her thighs again and found that she’d moved her hand. Her fingers were no longer buried inside her, they were spreading her lips, holding them open so he could see the emptiness at their center. Her gorgeous pussy begged to be filled with him. He crawled up the bed slowly, forcing his gaze to lock with hers rather than fixating on the parts of her that demanded his attention. He