Choosing Henley(22)

He leans down and whispers into my ear, “Be quiet for me, Lennon.”

His brown eyes capture me. Hooded and darkened with lust, they demand I don’t look away, even though it’s so hard to stay focused as he slips his callused hand underneath the light material. When he fingers the seam of my white lace panties, I have to bite down on my lip to keep a moan from escaping me. He teases the edge for a moment longer before he slips a finger underneath, running it between my pussy lips.

“You are fucking dripping wet,” he growls quietly into my ear.

I push my hips into his hand and I see a sexy grin spread across his face out of the corner of my eye.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, Lennon, but I can’t wait any longer,” he says before he sinks a finger inside me.

I close my eyes, dropping my head back onto the seat, and use everything I have not to cry out. He teases me for a minute before adding a second finger.

“I’m going to lick every part of this sweet pussy. I’m going to taste all of you,” he groans. “But right now, I’m going to make you come for me.”

If I could find a way to beg him without shouting, I would say something, but I can’t. I am completely possessed with desire, and having to be so quiet is overwhelming me. Everything feels so fucking good, but I can’t tell him. I can’t cry out. And it is only heightening the sensation of having him touch me like this in such a public place.

I thrust my hips into his hand again, and this time, he rewards me. He begins to pump his fingers harder and faster, slamming them into my pussy over and over again. He’s only wearing a T-shirt above the belt, so I can see the muscles in his arm tightening as he pleasures me. But other than that, it would be impossible to tell what he’s doing. He stays incredibly relaxed otherwise.

I’m hovering on the edge of satisfaction and praying that I get there before we reach his house. Stopping when I’m this close would be downright cruel. No sooner has the though crossed my mind than he presses down on my clit.

I close my eyes in anticipation of what’s coming when I hear him growl into my ear, “Open your eyes, Lennon. I want you to watch me make you come.”

Opening my eyes at his demanding tone sends me over the edge. My orgasm barrels out of me and wet heat soaks my panties around his hand.

I shudder as he slips his fingers out of me and removes his hand from underneath my dress. If I weren’t still riding out the aftershocks of the orgasm I just had, I’d probably have come again watching him suck my pussy juices off his fingers.

“I was right,” he says, leaning over and nipping at my earlobe. “You do taste better.”

“We’re here,” the cab driver states, startling us as he pulls over to the curb.

Thank fucking Christ because it is hot as hell in here and the July weather has nothing to do with it. Jami pays the driver before helping me out of the car.

As the taxi pulls away, he places a hand on the back of my neck, forcing me to look into his chocolate eyes again. “I don’t want there to be any mistake, Lennon. You’re mine. Everything about what we will do tonight is going to make you mine.”

I nod. I don’t think I could argue even if I wanted to. I need this as badly as he does, and I’d agree to sell my soul to the devil himself to have Jami for one night.

Just tonight. Just for this one night. I’d allow myself to have what I want. What I need.

The sound of gunfire drags me out of the memory as I try to piece together what I’ve missed of the movie. The hand on my leg squeezes, and before I can think better of it, I look over at Jami. He’s still focused on the movie, and it makes it easier for me to admire him in the dark. Well, gee, that doesn’t sound creepy at all.

He is so handsome. I’ve never met a man like him before. Everything about him scares the ever-loving shit out of me. He doesn’t know about my dad—no one does, really. Not besides Hannah, Beth, and their parents. It happened so long ago, before we really became friends with any of the guys, and it isn’t exactly a pleasant dinner conversation. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. Jami isn’t a one-woman type of guy, and the last thing I am going to do is tell him in the hopes of guilt-tripping him into becoming one. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.

I would never try to change him. You can’t make people into who you want them to be. I decided a long time ago to only allow men into my bed—and into my life—if I was certain I could never love them. I know it sounds terrible, but it’s a built-in failsafe of mine. If I don’t love them, if I don’t let them see the scars on my heart, then they can’t do any more damage to it. To me.