Pack Challenge Excerpt
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he lied as he ran his hand over her thigh. For once she didn’t feel any pain. Far from it. All she felt was an intense pleasure, although she was doing her best not to enjoy it. The bastard wasn’t even looking at her but kept watching his own hand move over her flesh. Eventually, the other hand joined in to move along the back of her knee and the bit of exposed calf above her boot. She watched his hands too, marveling at how big they were. They had light scars, faded over time and were tanned from exposure to the sun. Nails clipped or bitten down as low as possible without hitting the quick. And now these tanned, scarred hands were slipping between her thighs and slowly pulling her legs apart.
She bolted straight up, but he shook his head, still not looking at her. “Don’t. You’re distracting me.”
Distracting him? Was he serious? She was distracting him?
His right hand moved back to massaging her scar while his left hand went deeper between her thighs. His thumb ran along the seam of her ultra-fancy Jockey For Her bikini briefs, for about three seconds before he simply ripped them off. Sara gasped, her body jerking forward. And, before she could stop herself, she slammed her lips against his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, while his thumb slipped between the folds of her sex. She leaned into his hand and his thumb slowly circled her clit.
Moaning into his mouth, her arm went around his neck, but he pulled back and pushed her away.
If he stops I’m going to wring his big neck. But he didn’t stop, instead his hands went under her hips and roughly pulled her to the edge of the cabinet she was on. He crouched down and pushed his head between her legs. Grabbing the sides of the cabinet, Sara held on for dear life.
She knew she should stop him. She knew she should slap his face and limp off, her head held high. She should be home, safe-and alone-in bed watching another episode of “Seinfeld” for the four-thousandth time. She definitely shouldn’t be here, leaning back, letting a stranger bury his head between her legs and ever so slowly swirl his tongue around her clit, taking up were his finger left off. She really shouldn’t. But she didn’t want to stop him. Instead, she snaked her hands through his brown hair and spread her legs farther apart. And then, to ensure her place as a slut, she arched her back and pulled his head closer into her. She felt him chuckle against her burning flesh and a low growl erupted from her throat.