“Yeah, I really shouldn’t have. Now all I can think about is what slick and teasing thing you mean. Like, are you talking about your mouth? Are you talking about licking and sucking? Is that what you are suggesting by that?” she asked, and now she sounded just as breathless and eager as he did.
Much to his frustration. “Of course I am. There’s nothing else it could be.”
“I can think of some other things.”
“No you can’t.”
“Sure I can. You could suck your fingers and use those. Or have me suck them, and do it that way. Or you could make me do it to myself, you know, while you watched. Or possibly get your cock out, and then you know. Just rub the slick tip all over my tits, all over my hard—”
She wasn’t surprised when he interrupted her.
But it was a surprise how he went about it. Oh yeah, that was a shock all right. Because he didn’t do it with words. He did it with his hand on her hip, firm enough that it kicked a sound of shock out of her. Then another one, when that hand didn’t just stay where it was.
It seemed to move, in this really insistent, particular sort of way. It urged her back and then forward, back and then forward, until finally it was clear. He was trying to get her to work herself against him, quite obviously.
And of course she knew why.
He wanted her to get off, before she said anything worse. He needed there to be an end to this—to her talking dirty and looking the way she did and being so close to him. It was driving him mad, she could see it was, even through the darkness. She could make out the cords in his neck standing out, where the light hit them. And a hint of his clenched teeth.
And that wasn’t just his nails digging into her.
It was claws. She could tell it was claws.
She could hear threads of denim popping as they pierced the fabric of her jeans.
And, yeah, that should have been scary. It should have thrown cold water over everything. But somehow it just seemed to make everything hotter. Now all she could think about was how desperate he had to be. How much effort it must have been taking to hold himself in check.
Yet he didn’t even pull her closer.
He didn’t force her against his groin. Or grope her ass or her thigh.
Even though she could tell he wanted to do both. She could tell he wanted to do more. She could feel the tension in his arms and his grip, whenever he came close to anything like it. He slid one hand over her waist just to make things more comfortable, and somehow slipped a little way up her top. He grazed bare skin over her side.
And it made him gasp and go all still.
And she knew what he was thinking about.
Her bare breasts, only a few inches away. How easy it would be to push upward, underneath her sweater, and cup and squeeze and fondle. Because of course she wouldn’t say no. She couldn’t imagine, in the state she was in, that she would ever be able to say no to anything. He could have probably yanked her jeans down and had her up against the wall of the wardrobe, no problem at all.
And he was quite clearly struggling with the knowledge that this was the case.
So she did it for him. She pushed herself against him, until his hand simply slid up. And she didn’t regret it, once his palm made contact with the smooth curve of her breast. She couldn’t—the contact was just too glorious, too intense. It seemed to sizzle over her skin. It set up an echo of pleasure between her legs.
A thick, heavy echo, that forced a sob from her lips.
But that was all right, because the second he felt that softness, the instant he heard and felt her reaction, he reacted in almost the same way. He stiffened, and let out a hoarse sound. Followed by words, all in a tumble. “Oh god, Cassie, you’re so fucking hot, you feel so fucking good, oh man, I can’t resist when you’re this gorgeous and eager.”
Then after he had, something more seemed to break.
And he let his hand close over the swell of her breast. He let himself grope her, he let himself fondle her. He let his palm slide so sweetly over her aching nipple. Just for a second, one delicious, soft second—but that second was enough.
It turned that wave of heat between her legs into an avalanche.
An intense and impossible avalanche, of a sort she recognized completely. She felt it pulse through her, in this thick, heavy way. Felt her clit swell, felt her pussy ache and clench around nothing,felt how wet it made her. And she knew, she knew. She knew she was coming. He had made her come, just by passing his palm over one stiff little nipple.
And not even in some small, weak way.
She shuddered over it. Said his name over it.
