But wanting him didn’t mean I’d get him, and I feared if he knew I liked this, he’d stop. Get angry. Or?—
I didn’t know. I couldn’t think straight.
And that one whimper was enough that he froze. I could feel his thumb stiffen against my asscheek, braced to pull himself free a second later, and I—I couldn’t.
“Wait,” I hissed. “Wait.”
Andreas went perfectly still, and that included his finger. I flexed my hips, just to get a little pressure where I wanted it.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
A few tense seconds passed while I furrowed my brow against my arm. My ears turned red from the shame of begging for this from someone who’d never shown any indication he wanted to give it to me, but I didn’t care, if he would just?—
There.
Slowly, so gently it was almost torture for it, he sank his finger deeper inside.
He wasn’t pulling back or shoving me out of his lap, so I let out the moan I’d been holding since he started, and it came out in the shape of his name. “Andreas!”
He fucked me like that, with just one finger, while I was stretched out over his lap.
My dick was trapped against his thighs, and I braced my knees to buck against it, desperate for a bit of friction.
My arm that was trapped between us, I wiggled a little deeper, until it was beneath me. All I could do was cup my hand, but that was enough. I thrust into my cupped palm and came, sticky all over my fingers.
I was still panting when it hit me that I was in Andreas’s lap.
Andreas probably didn’t want me in his lap—right?
Well, he’d kept me there when I begged. He was too polite to shove me off. But he wasn’tsayinganything, and nerves made my hair stand on end as I breathed into the humid space between my arm and the rock.
Was I supposed to say something? That hardly seemed fair, when I had a dick that was still half hard in my hand, a mess I was trying to keep off Andreas’s trousers, and—would a “good lad” be too much to ask for?
Andreas cleared his throat, and that was my cue to get off of him.
Every single part of me wanted to sink back down on his lap, maybe let him brush his callused hand along my spine or comb his fingers through my hair for a little while. But I wasn’t that much a fool.
Andreas wasn’t my lover. I wasn’t even sure he liked me all that much.
Not wanting to murder me was a far cry from being friends.
I pushed up on my arms and slid off his lap to the side. As I stood, I tried to search his face, but I only got his profile.
He’d turned his head just enough that he could avoid meeting my eye without being outright rude about it. The most I could tell was that his lips seemed firmly set.
Had I taken advantage of him? He seemed far from pleased, which—I supposed he hadn’t come too, but I could remedy that if he gave me the smallest encouraging smile.
I hadn’t meant to press him, but he’d been there, looking, touching.
For moons’ sakes! His fingers were inside me. How could a man blame me for anything that happened with a finger up my bum?
I’d had a natural response to—to?—
All right, I’d thrust against his leg like a dog in heat until I’d come, yes, with his finger up my bum.
The whole thing was confusing, not least the part where?—
Well, I didn’t want to upset him. Take advantage. Make him uncomfortable.
