Close.They were so close to touching me.
I'm breathing heavily above him, staring at my tape job before I drop my head to see what he's doing.
That's when I realize what he’s waiting for.He wants me to choose this.With him.
“Jay,” I breathe.
His thumb slowly strokes my skin, but they don't move in.I want them to so badly.
I shift again, trying to guide them to where I want him, but they somehow always miss.
“Don’t—” I swallow hard, knowing what this means.I'm letting him win.I tried to play his game and I lost.He didn't have to say anything at all and I still fell for it.
Still, that self-awareness doesn’t take away from the fact that I need him right now.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
He pushes my panties to the side, exposing my wet center.The cool air makes me gasp, the contrast sharp and immediate.
His mouth, tape and all, is on me again.My eyes roll to the back of my head, the sensation overwhelming.
The way his thumbs open me up, the rough drag of the tape against my clit, his nose circling my center.
I want more.Desperately.
That's when his fingers move, sliding through the wetness before circling my clit.
His tongue works against the adhesive, creating friction exactly where I need it, and my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
I start to rock against his face, grinding down against his taped mouth, and the friction isunreal.The tape adds this texture, this resistance, and every time he presses harder, I see stars.
He's making sounds beneath me—muffled groans that vibrate through the tape, through me—and somehow that makes it hotter.The fact that he can't speak.Can't tell me what he wants.Can only use his mouth to please me while I use him exactly how I need.
“That's it,” I breathe, rocking harder.“Just like—fuck—”
When he pushes two fingers inside me, I nearly scream.
“Jay—”
He pumps his fingers in time with the movement of his mouth, and I'm completely lost.Grinding down on his face, riding his fingers, chasing an orgasm that's building so fast I can barely breathe.
The tape is wet now, clinging to his mouth, and somehow that's even more obscene.More desperate.Morewrongin a way that makes it feel so fucking right.
“I'm—oh God—” My voice is high, breathy, nothing like myself.“I'm gonna—”
He curls his fingers inside me, finding that spot that makes everything go white, and I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me like a wave.My thighs clamp around his head, my hands slam against the wall, and I come so hard I forget my own name.Wave after wave crashes over me, and he doesn't stop.He keeps working his mouth and his fingers until I'm shaking and gasping and oversensitive.
When I finally come down, I'm trembling all over, filled with an entirely different r emotion.
Dread.
What the fuck did I just do?
I climb off him on unsteady legs, my face burning with a combination of residual pleasure and dawning horror.My skirt is bunched around my waist.My underwear is twisted and damp.My ponytail has completely fallen apart.
I look like exactly what I am: someone who just rode her patient's face in the training room.
