Why are you shielding yourself like that? he queried, his tone low and inquiring, his gaze jumping down to where my hand had pressed hard against my thigh.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding like a lunatic. Shit. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. I didn’t even notice how blatant it was until he commented on it. I blushed as I stuttered, “It’s nothing. just. it’s nothing.”
But he didn’t believe me. His hand, which had been resting on my thigh for the past half hour, shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against mine. I felt the warmth of his skin, the pressure of his fingers, and it sent shivers down my spine. “You’re lying,” he told me, his voice low and demanding. “What’s happening?
I shook my head, trying to get out the words, but they just clogged in my throat. How do I even say this? How can I tell him that just his hand on my thigh got me so hot that I was actually dripping wet, so wet that I soaked my panties and you could see it on my jeans?
I… I got soaked, I finally whispered, my voice hardly audible.
His eyes got all dark, and I could totally see the change on his face, how his lips kinda parted a bit, and his breathing got all shaky. “Wet?” he said again, his voice all raspy now, giving me this jolt straight to my core. “From my touch?”
I couldn’t help but look at him, so I just nodded. His hand continued its movement, moving closer to the warmth between my legs, and I released a small gasp. “Yes,” I whispered, my body trembling with excitement.
He no longer spoke to me, but his eyes spoke even more than words. His fingers poked against the material of my jeans, directly over my pussy, and I quietly moaned, my hips pushing against him involuntarily. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice all gruff. “You’re really wet, aren’t you?”
Another moan escaped him as he pushed down harder, his fingers sliding against me through my jeans. I could totally feel how wet I was, how much I desired him, and it only turned me on more. “Please,” I gasped, holding onto the couch cushions as though they were my salvation.
He didn’t require any further motivation. His other hand went to the button of my jeans and opened it with ease, and before I knew it, he was pushing them down my legs and my wet panties. The cold of the air on my flushed skin made shivers run down me, but that was nothing at all compared to the fire of his eyes as he devoured the view of me, all laid out before him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice coarse with hunger. “You’re so fucking wet.”
I could feel my cheeks burning all the way, but honestly, I didn’t care. Not when he was staring at me like that, not when his fingers were already sliding to touch me and find out about the slickness between my legs. I groaned as he slipped a finger through my folds, gathering up all that wetness, and then he was pushing in, his finger deep in my tight warmth. “You feel amazing,” he growled, utterly focused on my eyes as he slipped a second finger in, spreading me open, filling me. My hips were rolling over his hand, hungry for more, and he was happy to help, curving his fingers just so, hitting that sweet spot inside of me that made my whole body shiver.
Oh god, I groaned, my head tilting back against the couch as the ecstasy washed through me. His fingers accelerated, intensified, and I could feel the tension building, the coiling spring deep inside my body. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded, my voice gasping.
But he did withdraw, pulling his fingers out of me with a sucking noise that made me whimper. Before I could protest, he dropped to his knees, his hands on my thighs as he leaned forward, his mouth taking the place of his fingers. I screamed as his tongue danced across my clit, sending flashes of pleasure coursing through me. He licked and sucked, his tongue pushing into my folds, tasting me, sending me wild.
Oh my god, I moaned, getting all knotted up in his hair as he worked his lips on me. It was too much and not enough, all at once, and I could completely feel myself on the brink, really, really close to just tipping over. Then he added his fingers back into the action again, thrusting them in as his tongue still tantalized my clit, and I completely lost it, my body convulsing with pleasure as I came harder than I ever could have imagined.
He just wouldn’t quit, not even when I was pleading with him to, not even when I was jelly-limbed and my head was spinning. He just kept going, drawing out my orgasm until I was a shaking, whimpering wreck beneath him. It wasn’t until then that he finally pulled out, sitting on his heels and gazing up at me, his mouth slick with my fluids.
You’re so fucking beautiful, he growled, his voice filled with hunger.
I could barely think, much less answer, but truly, it was not a priority. He was already standing, yanking his shirt off and dropping his pants, his cock bursting forth, hard and ready to go. I salivated, my own body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm, but I craved more. I craved him.
He climbed back onto the couch, sitting right between my legs, and I reached out, my arms encircling his cock, feeling how hard and hot he was. He moaned as I touched him, his hips pushing into my hand, and then he began to spread my legs wide, positioning himself at my entrance.
Definitely about what? he asked, his voice all rough and low, staring directly at me. I nodded, my breath having caught. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Please.”
As he positioned himself at my entrance, I felt a rush of anticipation coursing through my veins. I knew this would take me to heights I’d never imagined, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I felt the undeniable urge to experience more pleasures. I craved his body, craved the connection that was about to take place.
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