At first, I think he might pounce on me. Push me to my knees in front of him and put me to work.
The degree to which I want him to do that startles me.
Wow, I’ve really become a wanton.
But, of course, he doesn’t do that. Instead, he balls his hands into fists; the knuckles would probably be white if they weren’t already.
He brings a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “Maybe you should—”
“Don’t tell me to leave now,” I say.
I know his moves at this point. We’re all creatures of habit. Whenever we creep toward the edge of something, we push back. But I want to tip over the edge.
Then, in a softer voice, I say. “I’m sorry. I promise. No touching. I respect your boundaries. Swear on my mother’s grave.”
She’s alive, but I still mean it.
He considers this, and then, my pulse leaps when he leans down, reaches out his hand, and curls a finger beneath my chin. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking up at him from down on my knees.
But I realize he’s doing something else as well. He’s holding me back.
He’s not applying pressure or force.
It’s all psychological.
He has me by the theoretical throat.
And I’m not moving an inch without his say-so. Slowly, he applies upward pressure beneath my chin, and I lift from my knees, coming to a standing position. I still have to look up to see him because he’s so much taller than me.
But then I see what he’s doing with his other hand.
A wave of dizziness and lust rushes over me.
Because his other hand is working his dick, stroking it back and forth, slowly it seems, but still moving with that familiar rhythmic motion. I can’t see his dick with my chin angled as it is. I can only hear the noise of the scaly skin of his hand stroking against the skin of his cock. I can feel the bouncing movement. I can see his shoulder shake as he continues to jerk himself right in front of me.
Just out of reach.
But his eyes are on me. And mine on him.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice gruff when my gaze wanders to his hand. “Look at me while I do this. Because I’m doing this for you. Because of you.”
I nod wordlessly. And I follow orders, keeping my eyes on him as my hand travels down below my belly as well.
“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” he bites out.
His strokes quicken. Even though I can’t see them, I can feel it.
And mine do as well, my fingertips circling again and again over my clit, wet and lubricated and sensitive to every touch.
“I have to see you come.” He nods, and the desperate look in his eye is almost a mirror reflection of the one I’m sure is in mine.
I nod back, but I don’t move any closer. He doesn’t look below my face though. Not at my naked body or at my hand that is now working over my wet pussy.
“You . . .” He prompts me with a nod. “You have to come first.”
I work my hand harder, the muscles tightening in my throat. His gaze becomes agitated.
“What did I say?” he barks out at me.
I move my hand faster, my breath uncontrollable. “I’m almost . . .” I eke out. “Almost . . .”
And then both our hands are working so fast that the only sounds in the room are the flowing water in Mack’s tank, his hand pumping away at his cock, and my hand circling my clit.
“Now, Jules.” His finger is still under my chin, but now he pinches it, directing my gaze down.
For the first time, I can see him, really see him and all his moving parts up close. His cock is unbelievably large. He wants me to look.
“Be a good girl for me and come.”
The sight of his hard cock encased in his large hand hits me hard, as does the first wave of my orgasm.
“Come hard,” he commands.
His words are what really does it. Who knew he was so dirty? Certainly not me. The only dirty talk directed at me before has been wholly unwanted. But now I would lick the cum off his dick if he called me a good girl again. I would crawl on my knees on a leash if he asked me.
The second wave hits me even harder, and although I’m trying to keep my eyes open, to keep them on his cock, to watch that hypnotic movement until its final culmination, I can’t. I give into the little wave of death rushing over me. My eyes shutter briefly, my hearing muffled as if I’ve been dunked in water, although I can vaguely hear him still talking.
“That’s right, that’s a good girl. You’re coming so . . . hard . . .”
