CHAPTER 86: GEORGIA’S PLAN (2)

Georgia’s POV

I nodded and closed my eyes, offering myself to him completely, ready for him to claim what was already his. My heart thudded in anticipation, every nerve in my body waiting, trembling.

He deepened the kiss, claiming my mouth with a hunger that matched the ache blooming low in my belly. His hand left my breast, but mine stayed wrapped around him, stroking his thick, throbbing length beneath the water.

And then—

Without warning, I gasped into his mouth as I felt one of his fingers slip inside me. The sudden invasion made my entire body jolt, and I moaned helplessly against his lips.

"So wet," he murmured between kisses, voice thick with desire. He slid in a second finger, stretching me deliciously, and I whimpered, "Oh, fuck..." right into his mouth.

But then... he stopped.

His fingers stayed deep inside me, still, unmoving.

Not even a flick. Not even a pulse.

My walls clenched around him, begging for friction, for anything, but he just kissed me deeper, like he had no idea he was torturing me.

It was maddening.

My core throbbed with frustration, dripping and needy, and still, he just let his fingers sit there, smug and motionless.

"Nick..." I panted, trying to catch my breath. "What the hell are you doing?"

His eyes sparkled like he was thoroughly enjoying this. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently, his lips brushing mine again.

I narrowed my eyes at him, breathless. "My pussy isn’t a parking lot for your fingers, you know..."

That did it.

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, sexy sound that vibrated through the water and echoed straight into my bones. Then he leaned back against the tub wall, still inside me, his grin smug and wild.

"You want my fingers to fuck you?" he teased, voice low and dangerous.

My cheeks burned. God, yes, but I couldn’t say it. There was a lump in my throat, my body too caught up in the tension to speak. I just bit my lip and stared at him, aching, exposed.

His smile deepened.

Then his thumb moved—finally.

It pressed against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, and my lips parted in a moan I couldn’t hold back. He watched me unravel with a smirk, soaking in every reaction, every twitch of my body.

But still... his fingers inside me didn’t move.

The bastard was teasing me.

His thumb began to move faster, expertly circling my clit, and my body responded instinctively—hips writhing on his lap, chasing the friction I so desperately needed. But his fingers inside me? Still. Teasing. Torturing.

I was on the edge, and he knew it. He wanted to watch me unravel, to see me fall apart under his control. And I was giving it to him—but not anymore.

If he wanted a show, I’d give him a damn performance.

I met his smug, gorgeous smile with one of my own, then did something daring and bold.

I grabbed his arms—his fingers slipped from my soaked heat—and placed his hands to the edge of the tub, locking them in place.

"Don’t move," I whispered, voice shaking with need.

His smirk faded into something darker. Hungrier.

I shifted closer, pressing my palms to his broad shoulders as I rose to my knees, my chest brushing his. Slowly, I hovered over him, positioning myself right above the thick, hard cock straining beneath the water.

His breath hitched.

I felt him twitch under me, watched his chest rise and fall, faster now, like he was holding himself back with everything he had.

I tilted my hips... and began to sink down on him.

"Ahhh, Georgia..." he groaned, the sound raw and reverent. "You’re gonna be the death of me... So. Fucking. Good."

He looked down, watching my body swallow his whole, inch by inch. My core stretched around him, deliciously full—so full I could barely breathe. Every nerve in my body screamed for more.

This angle—it hit different. Deeper. Rougher. Filthier.

I pushed myself down farther, grinding my hips when I reached the base, and that’s when I heard it—that deep, feral growl tearing from his throat.

"Oh fuck..." he hissed, head tipping back as he fought for control. His arms strained where I’d pinned them, like he was dying to take over.

But I am not going to allow him to.

I began to move, slow at first, rocking my hips up and down, savoring every inch of him as I took control. The stretch was sinful, the fullness absolutely devastating in the best way.

And Nick? He was losing it beneath me.

His fingers dug into the edge of the tub, gripping so hard his knuckles turned bone-white. His lips were parted, jaw slack as moans and curses spilled from him in a deep, husky rhythm that drove me wild. His head tipped back, exposing that thick, muscular neck I loved to kiss, as his chest heaved beneath me.

The water around us splashed with every movement—hot, reckless, hungry. And I didn’t stop.

No. I wanted more.

I moved faster, bouncing on him with surrender, chasing every ounce of pleasure clawing through my body. My thighs burned, but the bliss eclipsed the ache. All I could feel was him inside me, under me, with me.

Then suddenly—he snapped.

His hands shot to my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and he took over. He moved me faster, harder, grinding me against him while his hips pistoned up to meet mine. His cock slammed into me with ruthless speed, and all I could do was fall apart on top of him.

"Ahhh, Nick! Yes—yes, just like that," I cried out, unable to hold back.

It was raw. Wild. Powerful.

His thumb circled my clit with maddening pressure, sending electric pulses straight through my spine. Then he leaned in, his voice dark and dangerous against my ear.

"I want to see you, squirt, Georgia. Squirt for me, baby."

My breath hitched.

At first, I blinked at him, confused. My mind tried to catch up with the fire already spreading through my body. Then it clicked. Oh. That’s what he meant.

But I’d never figured out how to control something like that.

So I whispered the only thing I could think of.

"Make me..."

I shouldn’t have said that.

That carefully leashed control he always wore so well? Gone. Shattered in an instant.

The beast inside him was awake.