“Yes,” I whisper.
The low rumble in his chest tells me he approves of that answer.
And I’m rewarded for myyeswhen he pushes a finger inside me, giving a little relief to the aching emptiness Ifeel. He's so careful about it, so slow, giving me time to adjust, and the combination of that patience and the heel of his palm pressing against my clit is making my vision blur at the edges.
My fingers find his forearm and grip it.
“Have you guessed it, yet, baby?” he murmurs against my hair. “How I can’t stop thinking about you. How fucking obsessed you’ve got me.”
I can feel the muscle shifting beneath my hands as he moves. All that restrained strength, focused entirely on making me feel good. It's overwhelming and not enough all at once.
“So beautiful,” he whispers against my hair. “Sweet, gorgeous girl.” His lips drag to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my jaw. “Driving me fucking crazy from the second I laid eyes on you.”
His finger moves in and out of my pussy slowly. And then he pushes in another one, making me press my lips together to keep from moaning.
He’s got me quivering like violin strings. Playing me exactly the way he said he could. I can't keep quiet, little sounds escaping me with every careful stroke.
“You've been driving me crazy too,” I manage to say.
“Yeah?” He shifts his hand, his thumb finding my clit, and the direct pressure makes my hips roll forward helplessly. “In a good way, right?”
“Occasionally,” I breathe.
He laughs. Low and warm vibrating through his chest and into my back.
“Brat,” he murmurs, like it's an endearment. “Been wanting to touch you like this since that first day at the lake, you know.” His lips are at my ear now. “Maybe I should have started with this. Instead of running my fool mouth, I could have just petted you and told you all the dirty things I want to do to you.”
“I would have slapped you if you led with that,” I breathe.
His chest shakes against my back with soft laughter. “Doesn't exactly sound convincing, considering I've got my fingers in your cunt and you're soaking them, baby.”
He's right. My claim doesn't sound convincing at all.
There's no arrogance in it though. Just teasing warmth. Affection, even. His fingers move with slow patient strokes, coaxing waves of pleasure out of me every time, his thumb keeping that rhythm against my clit.
I'm gripping his forearm so hard I'm probably leaving marks. I can't make myself let go.
“In my fantasies, I started by doing this to you.” His free hand spreads flat against my stomach, pulling me back more firmly against his cock.
He’s so hard beneath me. I love feeling how much he wants this too.
With his other hand, he strokes my clit. Dips down and pushes his fingers inside and then pulls them back out again, spreading my wetness everywhere.
“When I think about you,” he says, “I keep thinking about this. Touching you. Holding you. And instead of hissing at me, you open your pretty legs for me. Let me in. Just like you are now.”
“You…” I lose the thread entirely as his fingers curl inside me. “You fantasize about me?”
“Been doing nothing but. Every night. Every early morning. I lay awake knowing you're in the next room. Sleeping in the bed I got just for you.” His lips against my pulse point. “I wrap my hand around my dick, imagining all the filthy things I want to do to you. I spill so fast thinking of you, baby, it's embarrassing.”
Embarrassing is not the word I'd use to describe it.
The image of it, Walker in the dark in the room next tomine, thinking of me while he strokes his cock, sends heat cascading through me.
And I don't think Walker's really embarrassed either, because the way he touches me is nothing like the awkward fumbling boys I've ever known. He touches me as expertly as he strums his guitar. Like I'm his favorite instrument to play. Like he's a natural at learning me.
Like he's been paying attention and he already knows exactly what I need.
His fingers curl again, finding my g-spot as my breath leaves me in a rush. His arm tightens around my waist as my whole body shudders.
