I can’t help but laugh again, even though I know he just evaded my question, and very smoothly, at that. But I guess I’ll have to let it slide. People don’t willingly talk about my mom unless they absolutely have to, so I get it.
“Are you incapable of getting a boner without seeing me naked?” I ask Dorran.
He scowls. “Are you incapable of doing a single thing I ask you to do?”
“I did everything you wanted me to earlier,” I remind him.
He grunts. “Dress – off.Now, Cignette.”
Fuck, I love how he sounds, especially when he’s riled up. It’s fun to bring his edge out; it shows me just how easily I can affect him.
I press my teeth to my bottom lip as I gently push one, and then the other collar of my dress down my shoulders. The silk all but glides over my arms, and I quickly pull the front of it down to my waist before angling my phone far enough for Dorran to see what he wants to.
I’m not wearing a bra; I mostly never do. So, when I catch Dorran’s eyes after putting myself on literal display for him, I see how dark yet heated they seem to look.
He swallows as he scans every inch of me that’s visible to him through the screen, then runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip.
My nipples harden to the point of pain; my breasts feel heavy. My chest warms against his stare, and my breaths turn shallow as I continue to watch him take me in.
“Dorran.”
He meets my gaze. “Yeah.”
I lean my head against the wall and grin at him. “Show me what I do to you.”
He arches a brow. “Is that a command, Little Swan?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He chuckles. “You’re bad,” he says. “So damn bad.” He shifts in his chair, lowers his phone, and widens his thighs. He then brings his right hand over his crotch and cups the base of his very evident hard-on through his black, skintight tracks.
I suck in a breath when the veins on the back of his hand shift as he squeezes himself further.
“See?” he says, his voice a little raspy. “Thisis what you do to me, sweetheart.Thisis how much I want you; how much I want to ruin you, fucking worship every part of you.” He squeezes himself again, and my God, I’m so close to bringing a hand between my legs and finger-fucking myself.
But I can’t. Iwon’t. Because I don’t wanna miss a second of this – of him.
“Stroke yourself,” I tell him.
His eyes blaze as they meet mine. “So demanding today,” he muses.
“I like to think that I have just as much right to order you around as you do me.”
He smirks. “Aye.” He runs his hand over his length, and fuck me, he’s big. “But if you were someone else, I’d have ended them before they eventhoughtabout asking me to do something.”
“Noted,” I quip, then raise a brow. “Now, stroke yourself proper,dahling; I don’t have all day.”
He laughs and shakes his head a little, then starts to really work himself. He squeezes his base, cups his cock from over his tracks, and strokes himself up and down. His chest is moving too fast, and with each rustle of fabric against his palm, his breathing grows more and more audible.
He thrusts his hips forward, increases his pace, and spreads his thighs further apart.
I’m hot – literally. I’m damn near burning up.
Watching Dorran touch himself becauseIcommanded him to, is fucking empowering.
He’s absolutelystunninglike this – so disordered and blatant – and I simply can’t take my eyes off him.
He tips his head back and moans, resulting in the muscles of his neck to stretch. It’s a deep, slightly restrained sound, but it still makes me temporarily hold my breath.
