I climb inside first; he follows. I turn on the air-conditioning. He closes the door behind him. There’s ample light inside, thanks to the glass windows covering two of the walls. The window beside the bed is large enough for anyone outside to see straight in, which meanswe can’t do anything in daylight.
He sits beside me, neither too close nor too far. The silence presses in, every shallow breath, every small movement reverberating like an erotic echo. My mind is on fire, every nerve screaming, even the sound of his breathing makes mybody ache. My body has become hypersensitive, I can feel him through the air, his presence pressing against my arm and leg even though he’s at least a foot away. Unable to bear the torture, I rise. He watches me with darkened eyes and a serious expression—the look he wears when he’s deeply aroused. Knowing this does nothing to soothe my own rising heat.
“Will you read a book for me?” I ask.
He nods.
I turn toward the bookshelf and walk over. Lust clouds my thoughts, turning them hazy. My fingers tremble as I trail them over the spines of the books. This kind of desire is new to me, raw and consuming. There’s still an hour and a half before darkness begins to fall.
I pick up an old classic. But before I can turn around, his footsteps sound behind me. Goosebumps rise along my skin even before he reaches me.
He stops just behind me and gently takes the book from my hand.
“Not this one.”
He puts the book back in its place.
“Pick something that could heat up your little pussy,” he whispers in my ear.
“I don’t think I could handle any more of it,” I manage to get the words out.
He says nothing for a second, then slides his hand inside my shorts. My eyes fall shut instantly. When his fingers reach my clit, I moan breathily. Even a feather-light touch is overwhelming at this moment. He pushes aside my wet panty and slips a finger inside me, only to pull it out immediately.
“Fuck,” he grits, withdrawing his hand from my shorts.
He takes the old classic he just put back and pulls it out again.
“My dick will snap if it doesn’t get treated soon.”
We return to the bed and sit like we did yesterday—face to face, our backs against opposite walls, our legs touching. He looks toward the window.
“Why is there no curtain, and who the fuck made this huge window in a fucking treehouse?”
I chuckle at his frustration. “I asked Papa to make it big. I wanted it even bigger.”
His narrowed eyes bore into me. Then, with a resigned sigh, he opens the book in his hand and starts reading. After two pages, he looks up at me.
“I’m unable to concentrate, Angel. All I can think of is your dripping, hot cunt.”
A fresh gush of wetness soaks my panty.
He looks down again and continues reading. For the next hour, he keeps going. I hear only half of what he reads, the rest dissolves into the haze of lust flooding through me.
When the light begins to fade, he closes the book and places it on the mattress. There’s still enough daylight to force us to stay away from each other.
“Tell me, Angel, what are you thinking right at this moment,” he mutters.
“I… you… I mean, you doing something.” My cheeks start burning.
He smirks darkly. “Me doing what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s play a game. I’ll give you two options, and you’ll have to choose one. Shall we start?”
I nod.
“What would you prefer, my tongue in your sweet cunt or my fingers?” he speaks hoarsely.
