The hard outline of his cock rubs against my clit and I arch towards him, seeking more. When his fingers duck under the elastic of my underwear again, I murmur, “Yes, yes, yes,” against his lips.
Tessa’s face slams into my head and I jerk backwards, wincing. How many times did she lecture me about getting into these positions? How often did she instruct me on how to say no, shout no, beat it into my partner with fists if I had to?
Zach feels the change. He eases back, frowning as he scans my face for clues. “You don’t have to worry about me being clean,” he says, hitting the wrong target by a million miles. “Coach makes us get a full panel during pre-season training. I’ve got the results on my phone.”
My head swims with a fresh worry. “It’s not that, I’m just…”
“I won’t hurt you more than necessary.” He gently slides a finger inside my folds, so slick and welcoming there’s barely a hint of resistance. “We can stop if it gets too much.”
But that point sailed by long ago. From the moment he threw his leg over my windowsill, it’s been too much.
I shove Tessa out of my mind, ignoring the wave of guilt. “Do that again,” I order as he tries to withdraw his hand, and he chuckles, the last of the laugh catching in my mouth as he claims it once more. The digit slowly caresses me, the movement gentle but the pads of his fingertip exquisitely rough. On the third trip down, he pushes inside, making me gasp.
“God, you’re so tight.”
My muscles automatically clench around him. Trying to expel him or draw him deeper, I don’t know. As he slides towards his second knuckle, I wince. Even though I’m soaking, even though it’s similar in size to a tampon, there’s something different.
“Relax,” he says, pulling back so he can gaze into my eyes. “Push against me.”
The instruction is so much the opposite of what I want to do that I have to try a couple of times before it works. My grip releases and he slides his finger deeper inside me, still scanning my face for signs of discomfort.
That he even cares lets me relax further.
He withdraws, then thrusts the finger inside again, this time encountering less resistance. By the time he does it again, all I feel is a delicious friction. When he adds a second digit, briefly parting them to spread me wider, my head falls back, the muscles in my neck going limp.
Then his hand moves, and I yelp in protest, earning another chuckle. “Just removing a barrier,” he says, pulling my pants down, easing them with tantalising slowness over my thighs, past my knees, then tugging them all the way off.
Zach bunches them in his hand, holds them to his face, and inhales their scent. “I’m gonna remember that forever,” he whispers before lying back next to me, spreading my thighs apart before using his fingers to stroke against me again, this time using his thumb to play with my clit.
I want to reach out for him, do something that will set him on fire the way he’s doing to me, but when I try, he shifts his hips away. “Not until I let you,” he whispers, dropping his mouth to stem another protest. “You have to earn privileges. It’s not yours for free.”
“Your cock is a privilege?” I giggle, then moan as he twists his thumb to touch directly onto my most sensitive part before circling away. My thighs clench, trapping his hand for a moment, then release.
“Of course it is. You don’t think I let every girl who wants it onto this ride, do you?” His free hand tweaks at my nipple, making me squeal.
“How tall do you have to be to ride your cock? Asking for a friend.”
“About this tall.” He pats my head. “But you have to be a very, very good girl.”
The phrase sets my pulse fluttering. Suddenly, all I want in the world is to be Zachariah Cameron’s good girl.
“How do I earn a ride?” I ask, trying to bat my eyelashes but losing the plot when he puts his thumb inside me too, stretching me so far that I don’t know if I can stand it one moment longer. “Tell me. I’ll do anything.”
“Such a temptress. First thing you have to do is come for me. Can you do that?”
I thrust my hips at him, letting his fingers thrust deeper. The friction of them moving in and out while his thumb goes back to circling my clit has me so close to the edge that I can’t believe I haven’t climaxed already. My orgasm is within touching distance, and I throw my arm around his head, pulling it close enough so I can hold him in a lock while I devour his mouth. Chasing… chasing…
Then he withdraws his hand. I’m so shocked I can’t move. My hips strain upwards, seeking his touch.
I grab his hand, trying to force it back, but he easily shakes me off, laughing.
“Tell me how you don’t want it,” he teases, rolling over so his weight pins me to the bed and pushing my fringe away from my eyes. “Remind me again.”
“Please.” I grab his arse with both hands, grinding him against me, but he raises his hips, so the touch disappears and this time I growl. “How am I meant to come if you won’t touch me?”
“The same way you’ve managed before now.” He moves to my side and stares along the length of my body, his eyes greedy. “Did you need me to fetch you a toy?”
“If I’m making myself come, what’s the point of you?”
