He balls the pale fabric, tucking them into his pocket, out of sight.
When he cups my knees and pushes them apart again, his eyes are glued to my face, reading each change in expression. My lips part as I gulp in a breath, chest heaving while my back arches, acting on its own accord, my pussy desperately seeking his touch, throbbing, pulsing, slick with need.
He sits back on his heels as he spreads my legs wide, and I should be embarrassed as he drops his gaze, eyes feasting on my eagerness, but I lose all sense of shame as he licks his lips, as his fingers bend up and over the tops of my thighs, hauling me closer, so close his breath teases my curls.
“Look at you,” he murmurs and there’s a sense of wonder in his voice that I’ve never heard from a man before.
The tone strokes something deep inside my ears, setting off a vibration in my jaw; a rumble that makes my legs spread wider, wanting to please him, wanting to show how much he’s already pleasing me.
“Spread yourself.” His voice is gruff enough to give me shivers. “Let me see all of you.”
I obey him, vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before, a position of absolute trust. I watch him watching me, knowing he must see how my clit jumps and strains at my light touch, how my wetness increases.
His face twists in concentration, like he’s writing this deep into his memory, a safe place where he can savour it again later.
Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling an item free, mostly obscured from my view.
“This is your gift.” He lifts my left hand and drops a vibrator into it before standing, retreating a step. “Put that in for me, angel. Place it inside yourself while I watch.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, burning crimson as the heat of his gaze intensifies. The toy is shaped with an egg on one side, curving around to the control buttons and receptor on the other.
As I stare, Maddox cocks an eyebrow, teasing, “You don’t need an instruction manual, do you?”
My chin rises at the challenge, and I spread my pussy lips wider, slowly rubbing the bulb of the toy against my slickness. It feels incredible and, in this school bathroom, incrediblynaughty.
When I ease it inside, exerting just enough pressure to start it on its way, I arch my hips, and Maddox tilts his head, eyes lazily half-lidded, large hands resting either side of his belt.
“Deeper,” he commands, and I obey, sliding it halfway home.
“Deeper.”
This time his voice is a growl, his weight tilting forward like he’s about to close to the gap, to wrest the toy from my tentative fingers and do the job himself.
A development I wouldn’t mind one bit.
But his control is far greater than mine. Both of himself and of me.
With one eyebrow raise, he wordlessly repeats his command and this time I press my fingertip against the toy and don’t stop pushing until it's completely enveloped inside me, muscles coaxing it farther still until it nestles against my g-spot.
And when I withdraw, he’s there, fingers encircling my wrist, raising the hand to his mouth where he slowly teases me with his tongue, sucking my forefinger deep inside, rhythmically pulling until my internal muscles clench and release to the same beat.
A moan sounds deep in my throat, a sound I don’t have the slightest command over, like I’ve ceded autonomy, putty in his hands.
Next, he pulls out his phone, holding the screen so I can read the app display. His thumb hovers above the main control and my pussy jumps as though the stroke is of its sensitive flesh.
“You want me to give it a test drive?”
His eyes sparkle with mischief as I nod, unable to conceive of another response. A second later, the toy buzzes, inside me, outside me, sending my reactive flesh into a tailspin of desire, muscles clenching so hard in response to the frantic pulse of pleasure, I fear it will send the toy flying.
Maddox stands, towering above me as I struggle to hold myself together. As my hands weaken their grip and my thighs tremble. As my lungs expand until my tits strain at the fabric of my blouse, the buttons pulling tight enough I half expect one to pop free.
He strokes his palms along the outside of my thighs, giving a sigh of pure satisfaction as he eases my legs back together, then swaps the phone for my underwear, carefully pulling them into place, then snapping the elastic sitting low on my hips.
After he rolls down my kilt, he lifts me back to my feet, supporting me as I try to remember how standing works.
Then his lips are against my ear, the vibration of his voice sparking a new avalanche of tingles as he says, “I’ll need those back later. When you walk to our last class today, I want you bare with your arousal dripping down the inside of your legs.”
His cups my arse, pulling me against the tense muscle of his thigh, his other hand plunging into my hair, holding me steady as he kisses me, lips soft, then demanding against mine.
