"I'm thorough." My breathing was getting heavier now, the pleasure building higher despite my control. "There's a difference."
Shanice's breathing grew heavier as she watched. Her thighs pressed together again, and I saw the exact moment need overrode embarrassment. Her hand slipped beneath the towel. The sight of it, the knowledge of what she was doing, nearly broke my control completely.
"That's it," I murmured, my grip tightening involuntarily. "Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want this."
Her hand moved beneath the fabric, and I could see her arm shifting, and could imagine exactly what she was doing. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, then dropped to watch my hand again, then back to my face.
"Tell me what you're doing," I commanded.
"I'm..." she swallowed hard. "I'm touching myself."
"Where?"
"My clit," she breathed, her cheeks flushing darker.
"For me." I heard her gasp. "Keep going. Don't stop, baby. Make that pussy whimper for me."
I increased my pace slightly, still controlled but building now. My balls were drawing up tight, my whole body starting to tense with the approaching orgasm. But I held it back, forced myself to stay on the edge without going over.
Shanice's hand moved faster beneath the towel. Her other hand came up to grip the fabric at her chest. Small sounds started escaping her throat, little whimpers and gasps that made my dick throb.
"Are you wet?" I asked.
"Yes," she whimpered.
"How wet?"
"So wet. Mikhail, please."
"Please what? Use your words."
"Please let me touch you. Please fuck me. Please something, anything." Her voice broke on the last word, desperate and needy.
God, she was perfect like this. Desperate, wanting, and completely undone. I heard the sweet sounds of her arousal as she played in her wetness. There was something about it that was always music to my ears. A wickedly erotic symphony that I could listen to on repeat.
I stroked myself harder, faster now, still not rushing but letting myself build closer to the edge. My hips lifted off the bed slightly, fucking into my fist with more purpose now. I now at the point where rationalization was fading and my body was taking over, needing this damn release.
"Not yet," I managed, my voice strained. "You're not ready yet."
"I am," she sobbed, her hand moving frantically now. "I swear I am."
"Not yet." I was close now, so fucking close. The pleasure was coiling tight in my spine, my vision starting to blur at the edges. "But very soon."
Her movements became more frantic, her breathing coming in sharp pants. The towel started to slip, revealing the nipple of one breast, and she didn't even notice.
"Mikhail," she whimpered. "I'm going to come."
Those words, that confession, sent me over the edge.
"Then come," I growled. "Come for me, Shanice. Let me see it."
She did, her whole body shuddering, her mouth falling open on a silent cry. Her hand stilled beneath the towel, her thighs trembling. The sight of her coming, knowing it was because of me, because she'd watched me pleasure myself, destroyed what little control I had left.
I came hard, my release spilling over my fist and onto my stomach, my body jerking with the force of it. I kept my eyes on her the whole time, watching her watch me. Seeing the hunger, satisfaction, and renewed need, all warring in her expression.My orgasm seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me until I was completely spent.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, both breathing hard, both wrecked. Then I stood, crossing the room to her. She looked up at me, her hand still beneath the towel, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and wanting. I took her wrist gently, pulled her hand free from beneath the fabric. Her fingers were slick with her arousal, glistening in the morning light.
I brought them to my mouth and sucked them clean, one by one, tasting her. Sweet and musky and absolutely perfect.
