“Tell him to back off, Samantha,” Wesley growled, his fingers still buried deep inside me, curling slowly as he stared at my phone screen. “You’re right here with me. Wet. Moaning. Not running to Donald.”I gripped his shoulders tighter, my hips rocking against his hand even as guilt twisted in my stomach. “Wesley, stop. He’s offering to come get me. This is getting out of hand.”His thumb circled my clit, sending sparks shooting through me. “Out of hand? Baby, you’re dripping down my fingers. You don’t want him coming here. You want this.”I bit my lip hard to hold back a moan. My phone buzzed again in my other hand. Donald’s name lit up the screen.Donald: Samantha? You there? I can be at his flat in ten minutes if you need an out.“Fuck,” I whispered, trying to focus through the pleasure. Wesley’s green eyes locked on mine, challenging me. His free hand squeezed my breast, pinching the nipple just right.“Answer him,” Wesley said, voice low and rough. He pumped his fingers faster.
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