“Like this?” I teased.
“That’s a real good start, sunny,” he mused. His voice was a low, husky rasp that scraped across my skin, a poor imitation ofwhat I knew his hands would feel like on my body. “But I was thinking lower.”
I brushed my hands down my sides, pausing briefly to dip a fingertip into my belly button. “Here?”
“Touch your clit, Sutton.”
“Touch your cock, Lane,” I parroted.
I’d been joking, tossing out an off-the-cuff quip, but Lane surprised me by obeying. His hands flew to his shirt, unbuttoning it and letting it hang open, revealing the full breadth of the tattoos that covered every inch of his torso that I could see. Then he moved to his belt, deftly undoing it, sliding it free, and tossing it across the room. In a beat, he had his fly undone, pants and boxers shoved halfway down his thick thighs, only far enough for his fully erect cock to bob free.
Holy hell, I’d forgotten how big he was.
He curled one of those broad palms around his shaft and stroked once, twice. A low moan left him as he squeezed himself at the base, and I swear I felt a gush of desire coat my thighs.
“Your turn.”
There was no hesitation as my fingers delved into my slit, gently parting myself before coming to settle over my clit. I started with light pressure, flattening three fingers against my bundle of nerves and circling slowly. I already teetered so close to the edge, I knew it wouldn’t take long.
Lane’s hand moved up and down his length at a similarly slow pace. For several long minutes, neither of us spoke. We merely watched each other across the room, my eyes darting from face to cock and back, gauging his reactions and movements.
I knew Icouldcome like this, from the simplicity of my fingers against my clit, but something in me craved…more. Lane was hard as steel, the vein on the underside of his dick pulsing.What I was doing—whatwewere doing—was clearingdoing itfor him.
Rolling over toward the nightstand, I reached into the drawer and dug around for the vibrator I’d stashed there weeks ago but hadn’t used since I’d moved in.
“You gonna fuck yourself, sunny?” Lane asked when the toy appeared. His voice was barely above a whisper, teeth gritted, likely from the effort of holding himself back.
Instead of answering, I resumed my previous position and turned the toy on. It was one of those ones with dual settings, one that controlled the vaginal stimulator and one that controlled the “rabbit” that nestled against my clit. I turned on the vaginal portion and brushed it through my slit, coating it in my arousal before slowly pushing it inside. Lane’s hand faltered, watching as I began to move the toy in and out. My pace was languid with gentle thrusts, letting the pressure in my core build slowly. I allowed my eyes to flutter shut, but Lane’s voice sent them flying open again.
“All the way up, sunny. The clit part too.”
With my free hand, I adjusted the rabbit so it sat perfectly against my clit, then moved down to the buttons.
“It won’t take long,” I admitted. I liked to think of this particular vibrator as superpowered. Even if I was cold and turned it on, I’d be coming within minutes.
Now? With Lane’s gorgeous, stormy blue eyes on me, his gorgeous cock in his own hand, getting himself off watchingmeget myself off?
It would take seconds.
As if taking my words as a challenge, Lane’s hand began to move over his cock again, faster than before. He raised his brows, waiting for me.
I clicked the button for the clitoral stimulator, and the sudden jolt of vibration to the bundle of nerves dragged a long, low moan from me.
“Feel good?” Lane asked.
My eyes were half-lidded as I stared at him, his hand moving faster now, jacking himself to match the pitch of the vibration from my toy.
“Incredible,” I gasped.
That delicious pressure built and built and built, and my arms shot behind me, hands finding the top of the headboard, needing to anchor myself. I could do nothing now but ride it out anyway.
I wanted so badly to close my eyes, to lose myself to the sensations, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lane. His pecs bounced, abdomen tightened, his biceps bunched and flexed against the fabric of his shirtsleeves. The tendons in his neck strained with unreleased pressure.
He was mesmerizing.
“You gonna come for me, Chief?”
In answer, he stroked himself impossibly faster, mumbling, “Oh, fuck,” a moment before he released. I wanted to watch, to take it all in as cum spurted across his stomach and fist, but then my own climax hit.
