About Wasted Lust
A stand-alone spin-off to her novel 321
Genre: Romantic Suspense
EXCERPT / Swoon Thursday
Swoon Thursday is a sexy meme created by the ladies over at YaBound.
“I still feel dizzy.”
“Come here,” he says, pulling me into his lap and repositioning me so my head is cradled in the crook of his arm. “Put your feet up on the seat and just rest. It’s a good hour drive to where we’re going.”
I could resist. He’s not entirely trustworthy. And he’s a stalker. That’s pretty creepy. I wonder how deep that obsession goes. I wonder if it’s safe to even be in this car with him.
But his embrace feels too good to make him stop.
My dress was not made for being cradled in a man’s arms. Or maybe it was? Because the slits up each side bare my thighs, and the heat of his hand on my skin stirs up the longing I’ve been pushing away for years, making me shut my eyes.
His fingers stroke me gently, back and forth across the top of my thigh. It feels so damn good, I lose myself in the pleasure. I lean into him and his hand drops down between my thighs, making me gasp.
“Sorry,” he says, removing the offending hand.
I reach out and place his hand back where it was. “Don’t stop touching me. Please. It feels good. I don’t get a lot of intimate interaction anymore.”
My eyes are still closed when I say this to him, but the ensuing silence and the tenseness of his hand on my skin—his hesitant touch—forces me to open them. It forces me to seek him out.
And I guess he wins, doesn’t he? He’s got me right where he needs me. Wanting more as I gaze up into his eyes.
“Pull your dress up, Sasha.”
I wasn’t expecting that command. But it absolutely is a command. He’ll give me what I’m asking for, but he won’t give it away for free.
“Do it,” he says. “You’ve been pushing me away all day. You’ve complained about my kisses and threatened to break my fingers. And now you’re here in my lap. Vulnerable and needy. So if this is what you really want, you need to participate. I won’t force you to succumb. I won’t take advantage of your longing for Nick, or your very bad day, or the panic that seems overwhelming. If you want me, show me.”
So I do. I do it without thinking or rationalizing. I just want it. My hand reaches for the silky fabric of my dress all bunched between my legs, and I pull it up. Inch by inch, until the coolness of the air sweeps across my lace panties.
He licks his lips as he watches.
The heat I feel is immediate.
“What should I do now?” I ask.
His hand slides up my inner thigh and the wetness gathers in a pool between my legs. “Open your legs.”
I swallow hard as the request sinks in. I want to obey. So badly. I want him to fix everything that is wrong with this day, erasing the shame of my failure at school and the haunting regrets I have from the past by fucking me in this car.
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