“This limo is just not that big, Princess,” he says.
We’re driving, the privacy screen up, when Caulter slides over and reaches for my leg, pulling my thigh toward him. I jerk my legs closed, glancing toward the front of the car where the driver sits. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Worried?” he asks softly.
I shrug. “No. I’m not interested.”
“I’m sure he can’t hear us,” Caulter says. “Your father wouldn’t let someone record him.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Are you seriously suggesting my father is banging women -- your mother -- in the back of limos?”
Caulter laughs. “Obviously, you’re the one with sex on your mind,” he says. “No, I wasn’t suggesting that. Thanks for the image though; I might have to bleach my brain now. I was saying that I’m sure he talks about stuff with people he doesn’t want recorded, so I doubt very much that we need to worry.”
“Well, unlike you, I’ve never had a reason to even think about hiding what I do in the back of limos.”
“It's not my fault you live a sheltered life, one without orgasms.” He returns his hand to my thigh, sliding his palm up the side of my leg, and I slap it, but he only grips it more tightly.
“I’ve had plenty of orgasms, thank you very much.” I’m not lying; I mean, I’ve given myself plenty of orgasms.
Caulter laughs, the sound mocking. “Not the kind of orgasms I give,” he says.
“You have no idea what kind of orgasms I’ve had without you," I say, rolling my eyes. But I can't help but wonder.
Sliding his hand over my thigh, he reaches between my legs. “Your panties are soaked,” he says. “Are we just going to keep pretending you don’t want me?”
“I can’t stand you,” I protest.
“I don’t much like you either, Princess,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. I flinch when he speaks the words, as if he’s hit me, and the movement doesn’t escape him. “What? You don’t like hearing that from me?”
I shrug, even though he’s right. It bothers me, but I can’t imagine why. “Whatever. I don’t care if you like me or not. And --” I nod toward the window, at the driver.
Caulter smiles, and leans close to my ear. “I already told you he can’t hear us and he can’t see us.”
“You don’t know that for sure," I say, my resolve already weakening. "And he would tell my father.”
“So you’re entertaining the idea.”
“I am not.”
“Live life on the edge,” he whispers. “Take a little risk once in a while, Princess.” He doesn’t move for a minute, and then, his head looking forward and his movements smooth, he pulls my thigh toward him with one hand and reaches between my legs with the other.
I already know what he's going to find. He's going to find that my panties are absolutely drenched. I'm already aware of that. I hate that my traitorous body melts under his touch.
“You’re the Devil,” I protest, my brain insisting that doing this with him is so wrong. I'm not the girl who lets go, lets someone like Caulter touch her in the back of a limo.
I squeeze my legs together, but it doesn’t faze him. It only traps his hand between my thighs, leaving his fingers pressed against my pussy lips. He still moves his fingers, and it sends a shock of arousal coursing through my body like electricity. I want desperately to let go. I want him to take me higher, but I don’t know that I can. I don’t know that I should. In fact, I’m certain that I shouldn’t.
I wrap my hand over his wrist, intending to peel it away, but instead, I press it against me. I hold his fingers tight between my legs, the heat radiating into me through the cotton fabric of my panties. I can’t think about anything except having his fingers back inside me, where they were this morning. Hell, I don't want his fingers -- what I really want is his cock.
He moves closer to me, whispers in my ear. “You're wet. Admit that it's because of me. We both know it is."
I ignore him, but part my legs slightly, and he takes that as an invitation to pull my panties to the side, revealing my pussy. I inhale cool air through my mouth, every part of my body aching for his touch.
I shake my head. There's no way I'm telling Caulter Sterling I'm wet for him. Even if it is written all over my body. "Not true," I whisper.
"No?" he asks. He teases my entrance with his finger, but doesn't give me what I so desperately want. Instead, he runs the tip of his finger over my clit again, arousal making my thoughts foggy. "You want me, Katherine. You want me to plunge my cock into that sweet pussy of yours. I will, Princess. All you have to do is say it. Say you want me to leave you panting, the same way you did that night.”