“You said you touched yourself yesterday, yeah?” The question rumbles out of me, low and rough.
That tiny nod—just a dip of her chin—nearly makes me howl. Knowing I left her like this. Worked up and unsatisfied, taking care of herself because I wasn’t there to do it. That thought will tear at me for the rest of my days, but I’ll make it up to her. By the time I’m done, she won’t need her own fingers ever again.
“Show me.” The words scrape out of my throat, and I realize I’ve stopped breathing. My lungs burn as hot as the rest of my insides. “You’ll let me watch, won’t you?”
Her lips part in shock before she bites down on the bottom one again, considering my request. Then, her eyes flutter shut, and I refuse to blink as her hand drifts down her stomach. Lower and lower, past that soft curve of her stomach, past the dark patch of hair, until—
I exhale hard as her fingers make contact, parting those slick lips like she’s showing off just for me.
“I’ve never had an audience before.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out breathy. Needy.
“How does it feel?” My hand drops to my pajama pants, fisting the hard length of myself through the cotton in a desperate attempt to keep myself from unraveling at a record speed. If I don’t, I’ll ruin these boxers for sure. “You want me to look away?”
Her eyes crack open, and when her finger grazes her clit, her breath hitches audibly. “No… This is weird, but… good weird.”
Good weird. Fuck, she’s adorable.
Then she arches slightly and moans as she spreads her own slick along her fingers. Watching her touch herself, watching her feel herself because I asked her to… my cock throbs painfully in my grip.
I’m not going to last much longer as a spectator. Not when she’s making those sounds. Not when I can see exactly how wet she is, exactly where she needs me. My mouth waters. My hands shake with restraint.
She’s killing me, and she doesn’t even know it.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” My voice comes out rougher than intended, stripped down to something on the edge of animalistic. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Her fingers move in slow circles, tentative at first, like she’s still aware of my eyes on her. But then her head tips back slightly, and those circles get surer, quicker. She’s forgetting I’m here. Forgetting everything except the feeling building inside her.
I squeeze myself again, harder this time, and it does nothing to ease the ache. If anything, it makes it worse—reminding me of what I actually want to be doing. What Iwillbe doing as soon as she lets me.
“Look at me, Tatum.”
Her eyes flutter open, hazy and half-lidded. She’s close. I can tell by the way her thighs tense, the way her breathing’s gone shallow.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” I lean forward, close enough that my breath ghosts across her knee. “Right here, with me watching. Let me see what you look like when you fall apart.”
She whimpers, and it nearly undoes me.
Reaching to stroke her inner thighs, I lean in. “No matter what, you won’t stop touching yourself until you come.” Saying it as a statement, she nods anyway. Rumbling in approval, I finally lean in and graze her fingers with my tongue.
While her sweetness hits my taste buds and makes me groan deep, she’s gasping lightly in surprise. Still, she continues to circle that sensitive nub, nice and slow, as if she wants to drag out this moment.
I work her with my tongue, flat strokes and pointed flicks, learning the sounds she makes for each one. The little gasps. The way her hips start to jerk against the wood.
Once the soft, breathy moans of my name start leaving her lips, I know I’m done for. I’m going to ruin my underwear, my pants, the whole thing, but I can’t even care.
When I finally slide one finger inside her, she arches in the air with a gasp. I don’t stop—can’t stop, not when she tastes like this, not when she’s clenching around me. I add a second finger, crooking them just right, when her free hand tightens in my hair. While I’m lapping her up, she’s pulling hard enough to make my cock pulse.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her, the words vibrating through her. “Give me more. Fucking starving for this sweetness.”
I feel it building. The tension in her thighs, the way her breathing hitches, the desperate little sounds she’s making.
Her fingers speed up, and I watch every micro-expression that crosses her face. The way her brow furrows. The way her lips part.
I can’t look away. This is too beautiful to miss a single second.
When she comes, it’s with a gasp that sounds like my name caught in her throat. Her hips rock against her own hand, riding it out, and I’m so hard I might actually die from it. I’m pretty sure that I do. Hell, I groan against her folds, feeling every painful pulse as they shoot through me. I can’t stop it from happening.
Never in my forty-five years have I come undone without being touched. Tatum can take that first from me in return of what I had taken from her.
