Understanding dawns. Her cheeks go even redder but she doesn’t look away. “Please let me cum. I need it. I need you.”
“Good girl.” I unzip my jeans. Free my cock.
Jesus.
It’s hard enough to hurt. Pre-cum beads at the tip. When I squeeze my prostrate, a veritable stream of the stuff squirts from the tip. “But you’re still not cuming yet.”
Her gaze drops to my cock, swollen and slick with anticipation, and a wicked smile curves her lips. “No?”
She doesn’t move from the counter, just shifts her thighs wider. An invitation, a demand.
I tremble with restraint. I want to fuckthe shit out of her right now. Fast and hard and unrelenting. But safe sex comes first.
Damn condoms, always interrupting the flow.
With shaking hands, I reach into the pocket of my jeans, find a condom packet. I toss it onto her bare stomach, right above where her pussy glistens between us.
The foil glints in the studio’s low light. For a heartbeat, she doesn’t touch it. Just lets it rest there, her skin flushed from my fingers, her breath hitching as she watches me.
The air thickens, charged with the scent of her arousal and my own damn desperation. Fuck, why can’t I stop trembling?
I should just put it on myself and fuck the shit out of her.
But then it will be over far, far too soon.
I want this moment to last.
“Put it on me,” I tell her, voice rough as gravel. “Make it sexy.”
Eyes lidded, Jess plucks the packet slowly, deliberately.
She leans forward, and her fingers brush the damp trail on my shaft as she does.
I suck in a sharp breath. Pre-cum wells anew, pearling at the tip.
She tears the foil with her teeth, never breaking eye contact, and the sound is obscenely loud in the silence. She eases the condom out, that thin latex unfurling between her fingers, and my pulse hammers in my throat. Her other hand wraps around my base, firm and possessive, and I twitch, nearly fucking lose it.
Christ, her touchbrandsme.
“You’re dripping,” she murmurs, her thumbsweeping over the head, smearing my wetness. The contact is fire. I grit my teeth as she strokes me once, twice, her thumb circling the sensitive ridge beneath the crown.
A groan tears from me, raw and helpless.
“So hard for me, Marco,” she teases. “Just the way I like you.”
She doesn’t roll it on yet. No, she teases, as I teased her.
Fuck! Should have put it on myself.
Still can.
But I don’t.
I want to prove my restraint to her.
To myself.
Fuck!
