I get it now. Homemade porn. I want to see this again. Replay it a hundred times. So I don’t blink. I burn it into my brain.
When he pulls his fingers out, they leave with a slick,popping sound. “Such an eager one,” he rasps, then uses those same fingers to tease my nipple.
I use his leg again to muffle the moans, arching hard enough that I might need him to fix my back later. He pulls, then rolls my nipple between his fingers, and I lose control of every muscle, including the ones behind my eyes.
His touch grows bolder. I grow wetter. I’m fluttering, aching and about to explode.
I shift, grinding my clothed cunt against the quilt. Just a little more friction. A tiny bit will be enough. I’m seconds away from losing it.
I suck on new fingers, and he works on both nipples now, wet and hard. I need release, or I’ll self-destruct.
“Can I touch myself?” I beg.
It’s his turn to freeze—but he never lets go of me. “Fuck.” There he goes again. Turning curses into compliments.
His hands are back on me. His mouth. His voice. Him.
All of it has me buzzing, my whole body drawn tight and begging for release.
A groan breaks from deep in his chest—like he’s barely hanging on—and then, “Yes.”
Permission granted.
I keep one arm fastened behind his thigh as my right hand slips into my panties, sliding easily into my soaked pussy. My clit is swollen, more sensitive than I’ve ever felt it in my life.
“Are you inside that pussy, Mia?”
“Yes,” I breathe, echoing the word I’ve been repeating all night.
“Are you wet?”
“Drenched.” I bring my fingers back to my clit, circling hard and fast.
“Is every drop for me?”
“Preston—fuck! I’m coming.”
I convulse between his legs as he pulls, pinches, and torments my nipples with devastating precision. His mouth drops to the top of my head, inhaling me as I ride the aftershocks of one of the best orgasms of my life.
This audition deserves a standing ovation, but my legs are on strike.
He buries a kiss into my hair, and when he speaks again, his tone has shifted. It’s threaded with warning. “I need you to go upstairs now,” he says. Voice hoarse. Tone commanding. But the man istorn. “Don’t look at me as you go.”
“What?” I’m still coming back to my senses. “What did I do wrong?”
“Don’t you dare think that.” His breath shudders. “You’re nothing less than magnificent.” Another sharp inhale. “I’m an honorable man, Mia. But I’m not strong enough to look at your flushed face and keep my distance.” He leans back on the sofa, hands tight on his thighs and waits. “Upstairs. Now.” He looks ready to pounce on me. “Did I stutter, Mia?”
No, but my vagina just did.
“Go straight to your room. Maybe lock the door. No,definitelylock the door.”
I’m still panting, still trying to get my jelly legs to cooperate, when he speaks again. “Go. This is your last warning.”
I scramble up from the floor, pushing my tits backinto the top, without daring a glance back. Not because I don't want to, but because I don’t trust myself either.
I never knew fooling around could be this fun. This filthy. This soul-wrecking.
But I don’t make it to my room. Not all the way. I crouch on the third step, silent, listening to him. His breath is fast, broken. The grit in it. The edge.
