In one tug, it’s over her head and off, thrown to the side. She’s completely bare to me now, except the small, black underwear—that’s it.
She doesn’t move as my gaze devours her, her breaths quick, little pants, palms flat on the counter, propping her up as she stares at me, lookingsoinnocent.
Because I’m the monstrous beast and she’s my prey.
I place one hand on her thigh and groan. Fuck. I’ve barely touched her, and my body hums with need.
My other hand comes down, engulfing each thigh as I pull her legs wider. She stills, then pushes against me, tries to stop me from opening her up, from seeing more of her.
“No,” I warn, never dropping my gaze. “Open.”
I pull again, and they part.
“Keep them open.” I drag her towards me by her thighs, until her hot heat almost touches my legs.
I stare down at that tiny piece of fabric, mesmerised. She’s close enough that I can see how the middle is slightly damp—wet.
I need that fabric gone. Lifting one hand from her thigh, my fingers move towards it—
“Ezekial—”
I silence her with one look.
She wets her lips, eyes darting from my face to where I’m desperate to touch. I’ve never felt such desperation. If she stops me now, how will I survive?
She stays quiet, lowering her gaze to stare as my hand moves closer. When I’m inches away, hovering over her underwear… she squirms, trying to move away from me.
“No,” I murmur, and she stills. “I know you can be good for me. So stay still, and show me. Show me how good you can be.”
Black swarms her burning gaze as she soaks in the words. The praise. She likes the praise. Fuck me.
Her gaze is zeroed in on my hand, but she doesn’t move again. “That’s it, nice and still,” I breathe, and when my thumb is just about to touch that damp bit of fabric, she whimpers.
What a sound.
My other fingers flex around her tense thigh muscle, but my thumb doesn’t move. Another plea falls from her lips.
“Shhh, you’ve been so good,” I murmur, letting my fingers brush the inside of her thigh. “Stayed so still, so fucking good for me.”
Her eyes snap to mine, mouth parted with soft little pants. Oh, she definitely doesn’t want me to stop.
I never look away as I finally brush my thumb over her, and she whines.
“That’s it, atta girl,” I praise in a deadly rasp. “You’re soaked. So wet.”
I keep brushing soft, little touches over her until the fabric’s so wet I can feel everything beneath.
“Were you thinking about me or my brother when you made this pretty mess?”
She gasps at my question and my fingers hook under the fabric, gradually pulling it to the side, revealing her to me inch-by-glorious-inch.
I’m teasing myself just as much as her.
And when she’s fully bare, a gruff, deep sound escapes me. She’s so swollen, and glistening. Desperate for me to touch.
I trail the back of my fingers up and along her soaking slit, peering up to catch her whimpers caused by my featherlight touch. My jaw tightens at the soft sounds, at the feel of her wet pussy, but I want an answer.
My thumb moves slowly, adding a gentle pressure over her clit, circling in a tedious motion until she lets out a soft curse, then I pause.
