She looked at my cock again. “That seems uncomfortable.”
“It is.”
“And you’d stop anyway?”
I leaned closer, brushed my mouth over her shoulder, and kept my hand still around myself. “Nadia, I would rather spend the rest of the night hard and furious in a cold shower than see regret on your face after I’ve been inside you.”
Her breath trembled.
She reached out.
Her fingers wrapped around me carefully, not nearly tight enough, and I nearly embarrassed myself anyway.
I closed my eyes.
She noticed. Of course she did.
“Like this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You look like you’re in pain.”
“I’m trying to remain a gentleman.”
“Is that what this is?”
“This is the closest I get.”
Her thumb moved over the head of my cock, spreading wetness there, and my hips jerked once before I caught myself.
Nadia’s eyes darkened.
My breath shortened. My grip caught in the bedding instead of on her wrist, and she saw exactly what her hand could do to me.
Good.
Let her feel it.
Let her know I wasn’t the only dangerous thing here.
She stroked me again, firmer, watching my face while she learned what her touch did. I let her. I let her see my jaw tighten, my breathing roughen, my hand grip the bedding instead of her.
“You want to be careful with me,” she said.
“Yes.”
Her hand moved again. “But you don’t feel careful.”
“No.”
“What do you feel?”
“Close to losing my mind.”
Her grip tightened.
I caught her wrist gently.
