"How?"
"Touch yourself."
He steps back and runs a hand across his mouth. Then he snaps the elastic band from his wrist between his teeth before reaching up and pulling his hair away from his face and securing it.
He settles in against the counter and waits.
Does he seriously want me to touch myself in front of him right now?
I shift my weight so I can drag one hand over my core. The boxers, his boxers, I’m wearing are damp from my arousal and when I caress myself over the fabric it feels cool against my heated skin.
"Show me how to make you come, Laney."
"Oh gods," I groan as his words trigger the first sparks in my veins.
The fabric shifts against my fingers creating even more friction as I pick up my pace. I’m on edge already, even after jilling off in his shower earlier. It seems my lust for Miguel is a renewable resource.
"I want to coach you here, too." He says as he fixates on my fingers. His hands have slid to my ankles and he’s spreading me further. "I'm going to push you to your limit and then so far beyond it you’ll question the very laws of existence."
"Fuck," I curse as Miguel highjacks my body's response with his words.
"You like what I'm saying." He says. It isn't a question.
"Yes." I breathe as my fingers fly over my clit and the cotton of his boxers.
"Yes, Coach." He corrects and my knees twitch.
"Yes, Coach," I whisper as my breathing becomes erratic.
Miguel leans down and blows a breath of cool air on the damp section of fabric between my legs. The heat building in my body nearly brings tears to my eyes. I tilt my pelvis up to meet my circling fingers and Miguel’s grip on my ankles tighten.
It’s like he’s holding on for dear life when I’m the one moments from exploding.
“Are you close?” He asks.
“Yes, fuck, I’m so close.”
“You’re fucking incredible, Princess.” He praises and my knees start to cave in.
“Shit,shit.” I curse as my eyes squeeze shut. It’s like each cell in my body wants to jump off a bridge and yet hold on tight.
“Eyes on me, Laney.” He says and I tuck my chin and fight to keep my gaze locked on his.
Pressure builds; in my chest, in my core, in every muscle, and I switch from tight circles to aggressive rubs, up and down, along my throbbing clit.
"Good girl, that’s it." Oh gods, the praise is almost too much. "Now, finish." He commands and my head falls back. When it hits the cabinet I wince but Miguel brings a hand up behind my neck to support me. "I've got you Laney, let go."
"Miguel, oh my–yes!" I chant as muscles fire off and twitch across my body. Twice now I’ve reached the pinnacle of pleasure on my own fingers tonight. And already I’m aching for more.
My vision is hazy as I open my eyes and try to drink in the delicious sight of the man before me. My unfocused gaze travels across his chest, down the firm plane of his stomach, and lower to where his erection is tenting the gym shorts he has on.
The currents of lava slow in my veins and the desire to have him feel all of this too compels my hands forward. The tips of my fingers tease the skin along his waistband but Miguel grabs my wrist.
"Not yet." He says sternly as he steps back while gripping the boxers I'm wearing and dragging them roughly off my legs. My ass claps down on the counter and I gasp.
"Fuck, your pussy is glistening." He pulls the black cotton up to his nose and inhales deeply. My core throbs and my fingers grip into the counter to keep me upright. When his eyes open again there is a dominating tone commanding I give him anything he asks for. "I should punish you for using my soap and wearing my clothes, without asking me."
Holy shit. What would punishment from Miguel entail? Why does the promise of torture from him cause even more arousal to pool at my entrance?
