I nod. He’s fucking amazing.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Start how you were.” I do as he says, straddling him facing him. “Now pour the almond oil all over my cock.”
I soak his cock with the oil, stroking him slowly until his eyes grow heavy with lust. “Do you like it?” I ask.
His voice is husky. “So much, sweet girl. Now pour the oil all over your panties.”
I blink at him in surprise. “All over my…panties? You want me to keep them on?”
“Yes. Soak them.”
I squirt oil all over my panties until the fabric is saturated, then look up to see him watching. He licks his bottom lip. “More.”
The oil drips down my stomach and thighs onto him. I shift, and the fabric is so slippery that I slide up his cock, grinding his hard shaft into my pussy. I look at him in surprise, my eyes wide. He’s grinning at me. Fuck, I get it now.
Turning the bottle upside down, I squirt more on him then drag my pussy up and down his cock, the fabric slippery and wet against my skin. It’s soaked enough to be almost silky, and I lean forward, digging my fingertips into his chest, as I rock my hips against him.
“Oh my God, Tommy, that feels so good.”
“Yes, it does, baby.” His voice is rough, and I lean down and kiss him hard.
His skin is warm beneath me, the steady drum of his heartbeat under my cheek grounding me. He exhales, and the sound alone feels like safety.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now breathe with me.”
I match him—inhale, exhale—until my panic starts to fade, replaced by the quiet pulse of heat, of need.
His voice drops lower. “This isn’t about fixing what happened, Gi. It’s about reminding you what’s still yours.”
My throat tightens. “And what’s that?”
“Your body. Your choice. Us.”
I kiss him again, his mouth warm, tasting him. He lets me lead until he doesn’t, our kiss deepening, more intense, stronger, urgent. My fingers thread in his hair, gripping tightly as I grind on him, my oiled panties sliding up and down his length.
He slides his hand out from behind his head and grabs a handful of my hair, taking my mouth, devouring me. His hips are rocking against me, his cock sliding between my panty-covered pussy folds.
He releases my hair abruptly, eyes wide, and holds his hand up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. I promised you—”
“No,” I pant. “I want your hands on me.”
I sit up and pat the covers until I find Tommy’s knife. I hand it to him, and he takes it, deftly severing the tie that binds his hurt arm. He sits up and wraps both arms around me, slamming his mouth into mine as he thrusts against me.
My hands are back in his hair, and I moan, the heat building into fire.
He pulls back an inch, gasping for breath. “Fuck, Gi, we can slow down. We can stop—”
“Please don’t,” I say against his mouth. “Does it hurt you? Is the fabric rubbing too hard—”
“It hurts, and I fucking love it,” he growls.
“I can pour more—”
“No.” He pulls back. “Unless you want—”
I take his mouth with mine again, grabbing his hands. They’re coated in oil, and I move them to my breasts, then up the column of my throat to my mouth. Sucking his fingers into the back of my throat, I arch my back and grind on him, my thighs thick and slippery as he strokes his hand over my ass. With every downward stroke, he grips my hips harder, pushing his cock against me more aggressively.
