“All the more reason to. All the better to. Let me hear you do it,” he said, and god, he soundedsoclose to eager now. Reined in and dry as dead leaves by anyone else’s standards. But by his it was almost a symphony. Asong of something so close to lust it had her parting her thighs before she’d even thought about it.
Tremulously at first.
Just testing it out.
But then she heard it—his breath catching. Like he knew she was going ahead, and it actuallydidsomething to him. And just as she was thinking how impossible that was, she shifted onto her back. She let them part just a little more, hardly anything, really. But when she did, her leg touched the solid side of his body.
And that wasdefinitelyan intake of breath.
Like this was all very straightforward to him. Yet at the same time, just ever so slightly shocking. Ever so slightly impossible seeming, in the same sort of way it was for her. Though she knew that sense of it being so was starting to slide away. Everything was getting all syrupy and sunk deep into desire, in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a teenager.
Before you learnt to curb yourself, she thought.
Then just let her hand slide back between her legs. Slowly, slowly, like he’d said. Simply allowing herself to try out this new and completely bared sensation. This whole sense of her spread pussy, exposed to her exploring, slightly eager fingers.
And they got more so once she had.
She brushed over the outer edges of that slick, hot seam, and got a bloom of sensation so intense it seemed almost a crime to not chase it. To not stroke softly around and around the place she wanted to touch most. That molten core, now aching in such an agonizing way she almost went ahead.
Only the thought of what it would sound like stopped her.
Though she didn’t know why. He didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Jesus, that pussy is so fucking wet. Barely touching yourself, and I can hear it. I can hear you stroking through all that slickness, all soft and slow. That feel good? Tell me if it does. Lemme hear you say it,” he said, like some sort of demonic reversal of all the experiences she’d ever had before.
With other men it had always been passionate disgust.
Here, what she got was plainspoken. It was simple, somehow.
But god, it waslewd. And almost relentlessly encouraging in a way that should have been impossible for him. She wasn’t even sure how he was managing it. She wanted to ask:Is this real? Or is it just like the food thing, the singing thing.
Practice, at being someone else.
Someone who wants me to be happy.
But somehow that wasn’t what came out. It couldn’t be, really. Buying into it was now too delicious to do anything but. “Oh my god, it did,” she moaned, and actually felt some sort of reaction run through him. A shudder, it felt like. A groan of desire brewing in his body that he couldn’t quite let out.
Though it was in his voice when he spoke.
Like he was giving in to it all, too.
“So stroke yourself again. Get closer this time,” he said.
Then she just had to give him a little push. Just to see how much he was.
“Say what you want me to get closer to. Be specific.”
“Because you think I won’t?”
“It seems likely. More likely than you doing it.”
“Your clit. I want you to almost touch your clit.”
“Jesus, Miller,” she gasped out, voice now more moan of desire than anything else. Near unintelligible, and so desperate it should have embarrassed her right out of touching herself at all. But it didn’t. She did exactly what he had said without breaking a sweat. Two fingers over that swollen little bud, stroking soft and feverish, the pleasure from it so sudden and so intense that she simply had to keep going.
And that wasbeforehe carried on.
Relentless, his own voice almost breathless now.
