My pussy stretches with a pleasant ache around our combined fingers, but just as panic at contact rises in my chest, I glance down.
The purple of Xander’s protective surgical gloves wraps around his wrist, and behind him, his briefcase lies open with pieces of his kit strewn across the counter.
“Xander—”
“Too much?” he asks in a low voice. “Because my cock is so much more.”
“Don’t—” I gasp, clenching my walls down around him. “Don’t stop!”
“I never plan to.” Xander’s fingers start fucking into me in tandem with my own. He mixes his rhythm for a moment, switching between fast and slow until it feels like he’s reaching so deep inside me that my core throbs.
I collapse back against the counter and he remains over me, sliding his arm under one of my thighs and lifting it, then bracing his hand on the counter.
He watches me like he’s studying a piece of art. “You’re just as hot as I thought you’d be,” he murmurs, curling his fingers against my G-Spot and sending a powerful punch of pleasure through my body.
I jolt and my eyes roll.
My fingers lose their rhythm, but Xander picks up the slack and the contrast between his cold, gloved fingers and my own warm ones makes it feel like I’m being churned up inside.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, my skin ignites, and I’m so hot, I’m sure I’m about to melt.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp desperately, arching up against him and writhing briefly against the soft fabric of his shirt. “I need—fuck, I need more!”
“More?” Xander purrs softly. His hand increases and as his fingers plunge deep, his thumb slides over my clit and presses down firmly.
As his thumb rocks back and forth and his fingers fuck into me with powerful strokes, I melt.
I come with a strangled cry, clutching at his shoulder with all my strength until his shirt threatens to tear against my fingernails.
Pulse after pulse of pleasure curls through my body and my vision briefly goes dark.
On and on my orgasm drags as he fingerfucks me through every second of pleasure, massaging my walls and stroking my clit to prolong my pleasure until I’m a gasping, panting puddle on his counter.
Our eyes meet and Xander leans down so close that we share the same air.
I want to kiss him.
It’s a craving that rises like a powerful instinct, but just as I lift my head, Xander smirks and pulls away with his fingers still inside me.
“We have to follow the rules, remember?” Xander spreads his fingers inside me, and I whimper, leaning up and gazing down at his slick-covered glove when he pulls his hand free.
“The rules,” I whisper. “I hate the rules.”
“I don’t know,” he says softly, carefully removing the glove and discarding it. “I think that was pretty fun, don’t you? And we stayed safe.”
He swiftly removes his shirt and drapes it over my bare shoulders, a gentle act that brings rise to a pulse of irritation.
I want him.
I want him so much it hurts.
A kiss.
Just one kiss.
His hand rests briefly on the top of my head and ruffles my hair affectionately, then he returns to his briefcase and starts cleaning up. “I think that was a satisfactory show before dinner,” he says. “Maybe for dessert, I’ll show you what you want to taste and can’t have.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” I say, kicking softly out at him. “I’d say you’re enjoying this.”
