Twist the Knife - Page 128

“Do what feels good.” He rests his hands on my waist.

“You feel fantastic.” I press my hand to his chest and slowly rock back and forth. “Amazing.”

His lips kick into a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re bad at sex?”

“What?” I stop moving. “Why?”

“Because so far you’re really good at it.” He squeezes my hips, encouraging me to continue rocking back and forth. “Keep moving. Trust yourself. Let me see.”

But the question threw me and now I’ve lost my momentum. He lazily sucks his thumb into his mouth and brings it between my legs. “Lean back a little.”

I brace my hands on his thighs, arching my back.

“Fuck yeah.” He rubs around my clit in small circular motions until I can’t help but move myself against him. “There you go,” he encourages.

“Oh.” I gasp and throw my head back, moving my hips faster and faster. Pleasure sneaks up and explodes through me as my body pulses with glorious wave after wave.

I haven’t even caught my breath when Jigsaw’s rough hands dig into my hips, holding me in place for him to thrust up into me over and over. The quick strokes extend my own pleasure and I grip his forearms to hang on.

He shouts and throws his head back. Every muscle in his body strains through his release. Finally, he roughly yanks me down over him, hugging me to his chest, kissing the side of my head. He slides one hand down and pats my behind. “You’re so fucking good. So fucking good,” he repeats.

Glowing with pride that I’ve made him so happy, I kiss along his jaw and neck. His shoulder jerks and he laughs. “You’re tickling me again.”

Jigsaw

“I think I’m still coming,” she pants against my neck.

Too drained to speak, I grin from ear to ear.

“That was…that was so amazing.” She sits up and shakes her head, messy curls sliding over her shoulders. “No, amazing isn’t strong enough.”

She blinks at me in wonder, eyes sparkling. Cheeks and chest flushed and rosy from orgasm.

A possessive desire punches me in the chest. I’m the first one who did this to her. The only one. And I want it to stay that way. I want all of her orgasms to belong to me from now on.

“Come here,” I hold out my arm and she eagerly squirms close, resting her head on my chest. Blonde curls, soft as silk, slide over my skin. Something smoky and seductive—incense, maybe—tickles my nose.

The guy who told this woman she’s boring in bed needs a slap in the face—with a hammer. Or maybe I should thank him. Otherwise, by now, she probably would’ve been married to some boring twatwaffle who would never appreciate the explosive passion that simmers underneath Margot’s prim exterior.

Like I suspected, she responds best to gentle touches and slowly working her up to a frenzy. She really goes wild when I whisper all sorts of dirty things in her ear. And she absolutely thrives when I praise her, which I end up doing a lot because she’s so fucking good at everything.

“Is it always that…intense?” she whispers, tracing a restless pattern over my chest.

I capture her hand and bring her fingers to her mouth, kissing each one. “No, it’s not,” I answer honestly.

The irony of her blowing my mind when she’s the one who asked me to help her improve her sex game isn’t lost on me.

Plenty of women have told me I’m good at getting them off, but something’s different with Margot. Like she was made for me to unlock and discover. And she’s uncovered something different in me.

Even if we’re not fucking like the fate of the world depends on our orgasms, I enjoy being with her. Her oddball humor mirrors my own. Even the silence is nice. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill every blank space with meaningless chatter.

“Are you staying?” she asks, with the most hesitant tremor in her voice.

“Yeah.” I stroke my hand over her arm.

She snuggles close. Her breasts are pressed against my side, leg thrown over mine. Instead of panic, I feel peace.

I have no business getting used to this. Our arrangement’s temporary. Fuck, I should give her a final report card now—A-plus straight down the line—before I do something dumb like get attached to her, or worse, fall in love with her. Since I’m fairly certain I’m not capable of love, it’s the attachment thing that keeps me from falling asleep.