The raw want in his voice made something in my chest crack open. I twisted to reach under the bed, fumbling for the shoebox and pulling out my vibrator. My hands trembled slightly as I turned back to face him.
Connor’s eyes had gone dark, his pupils blown wide. His cock twitched, a fresh bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip.
I leaned back, resting my head on his pillow, feeling the weight of his gaze skimming down my naked body, lingering on my lips, my collarbone, my breasts, stopping where I’d rested thevibrator against my stomach. I spread my thighs, making space for him to kneel between my legs.
“Jesus, Hannah,” he breathed reverently.
I flicked on the vibrator, the soft buzz filling the quiet room. My skin felt too hot, too tight. I ran the silicon along my clit, and even that first touch made me gasp. I was hyperaware of Connor's gaze tracking every movement, as hot as a brand on my skin. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as his hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking.
“Can I—” His voice came out rough, strained. “Can I touch you while you do this?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His hand trembled around mine on the vibrator, sending a jolt through me.
“Show me how you like it,” he said softly.
Together, we angled the vibrator, and I guided it, pressing and tilting it back, the tip hitting my front wall just right. A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“Is this okay?” he asked. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I managed, my voice coming out broken. “Don’t stop.”
His other hand never stopped stroking himself, his movements getting faster, more erratic. His eyes moved between my face and where the vibrator disappeared inside me, like he couldn’t decide which view he wanted to memorize.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, and the careful attention in his voice—like my pleasure was the most important thing in the world—made my eyes sting.
Trusting him to keep the rhythm, I released the vibrator to bring one hand to my clit, the other to my breast, pinching and rolling. Connor groaned, low and desperate, his grip tightening on the vibrator—and on his cock.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, and the wonder in his voice made me believe he meant it.
My hips started to shake, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core. Connor seemed to sense it because he shifted, dropping his head. He nudged aside my hand, bringing his mouth to my clit, his lips fluttering against the sensitive flesh while the toy pulsed inside me, and the dual sensation was overwhelming.
“Connor!” His name tore from my throat as I came, messing up his perfect hair as I held him exactly where I needed him. The vibrations of his satisfied moan against my clit prolonged my orgasm until I was gasping, boneless, my thighs trembling.
I collapsed into the pillow, trying to catch my breath. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched Connor pull back, his hand still working his cock in fast, desperate strokes. His gaze roamed over my body, flushed and sprawled out on his bed. Tendons strained in his neck, and his eyes had gone almost black.
“I’m close,” he gasped, voice wrecked. “Fuck, Hannah, I’m—”
He came with a groan, his whole body shuddering as he spilled over his hand. His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, like he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.
I blinked, still catching my breath, my mind struggling to process what just happened. He’d been hard enough that we could have had sex. I’d been ready. Willing.Wanting.
“You didn’t want to…?” I asked, confused and maybe a little hurt.
Still breathing hard, he grabbed tissues from the nightstand to clean himself up, then gently removed the vibrator and set it aside. Then he collapsed next to me on the bed, his arm coming around me automatically.
“I told you. I wanted to watch you.” His voice dropped quieter, more intimate. “That was enough. More than enough.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or confused.He’d rather jerk off than have sex?But something warm settled in my chest anyway—the realization that he got off onmypleasure, not justhis own. Watching me come in his bed was what he wanted to remember when he went back to New York.
Because, I reminded my troublesome heart, he would go back to New York. Soon.
“We won’t see each other for a few months,” he said into my hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder. “So now when I’m lying in my corporate apartment in Manhattan, I’ll be able to think about this. About you, right here.”
Oh.My throat tightened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, soft and lingering. “Best going-away present I could ask for.”
