I nod, my blood sparking with need. “You kissed me everywhere.”
He smiles. “I thought so.”
Then I slide my jeans over my legs, letting the rough fabric run over my skin, imagining it’s his hands touching me that gently.
“Look at you,” he breathes. His eyes are glazed and his expression is awe-filled. “Just look at you.”
Everywhere his eyes touch feels as if he’s lighting it on fire. I’m burning under his gaze.
“Then you took off my panties. And touched me.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. And the look he gives me is raw with need. “Show me. Show me what I did.”
I step out of my panties and reach down, running my finger over myself, until I find my clit. And when I touch myself, the studio spins, and I clench my legs at the throbbing ache. I’m swollen and wet.
“You’re wet, aren’t you?”
I nod and he swears, long and low.
“Then what?” He watches my hand circling my clit, a hungry light in his eyes.
“Then you pushed me down to the floor.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m climbing higher and higher, and your fingers are working magic.” I stroke myself, imagining his fingers playing over me. “Then I open up your fly, push down your jeans, letting you free.”
“You’ve always been generous.”
I watch hungrily as he unzips his fly and springs free. The length of him, the hard thickness. My goodness. He’s gorgeous. He’s so beautiful. The jutting length of him strains toward me and I pulse, wanting him so much it hurts.
“Tell me,” he says, voice raw.
“I wrapped my hand around you.”
“Thank you.” He watches me as he slowly wraps his fingers around his length.
“I stroked you, slowly, up and down.”
“My word.” His eyelashes flutter as his hand works up and down his length, and he lets out a low, urgent moan. But then, he regains focus and his eyes find mine, pinning me in place.
“I’m still touching you, aren’t I?”
I nod, resuming the rhythmic circling, letting the electric pulse build and build and build.
“Then what?”
I lick my dry lips. I’m still captured by his gaze, by the silence except for our breathing, and the sound of his hand sliding up and down his length. My legs are shaky and the room pulses in time with the rhythm of my finger rubbing down my clit.
“Then you spread my legs apart, you took my mouth, and you thrust inside me.”
His hand jerks and he lets out a low, strangled sound.
“Put your finger inside yourself,” he demands.
I watch him as I slip a finger inside, feeling my wetness and the ache there.
He shakes his head. “Two.”