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But the way he’s touching me is too damn distracting. I need him to keep going because there’s something oscillating deep inside my core, growing sharper and brighter every time his fingers brush against my clit.
Then he yanks the front of my panties down and his hand cups my bare pussy, and the moan of pleasure he gives me almost drowns out my own sudden groan of bliss.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he says like it’s the most wonderful thing in the world.
“You’re touching me. Are you surprised?”
“Baby, you’re not just wet. You’re dripping down my palm. You want me as much as I want you.”
“I feel how hard you are. I don’t think that’s possible.”
His mouth buries mine, hungry now, and his fingers tease up and down my slit. I’m moaning into his tongue and I don’t care anymore as his fingers slide inside of me, fucking me nice and deep. Oh my god, he presses against that wild bundle of nerves I figured only I could ever find and it lights my brain on fire. My knees go limp and he’s supporting my weight as his fingers stroke in and out, hitting the spot over and spot. My eyes roll back, I’m moaning, mindless, insane with pleasure, and he’s not stopping. He bites my lower lip and whispers, “Come for me, baby, come on, you need it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, shaking as I shatter on his hand. I come in a sudden rush, my fingers digging into his back, my cheeks tingling and my ears ringing. When it passes, it’s like falling from an airplane and slamming back to earth. I gasp for breath, my vision narrowed, as he strokes me slower, slower, then pulls out.
“Good girl,” he whispers and presses his fingers into my mouth.
I moan, surprised by the gesture, but I lick him clean.
“I’ve never come like that before,” I admit once I’m finished. His clean hand strokes through my hair.
“No? You finished so easily. You’ve been pent up, haven’t you?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“That’s why you came home with me tonight.”
I chew my lip, and suddenly I don’t want to lie to him. I mean, this guy just made me come with his freaking fingers. That’s an insane skill and he deserves a little honesty.
But I can’t go that far. Even with the orgasm still lingering in the back of my head.
Instead of answering, I kiss him. He can interpret that however he likes, and I think his read is very favorable. His cock’s still hard and he growls into my mouth as he pulls me away from the counter.
I forgot we were still in the kitchen.
He leads me upstairs. I catch glimpses of more art, more fancy furniture. We step into a large bedroom at the back of the house: huge bed, en suite bathroom, walk-in closet about the size of my apartment back home.
“Undress,” he says, closing the door behind him. He tosses his jacket onto a chair and begins to unbutton his shirt. I glimpse a muscular chest and tan skin before I turn away, cheeks burning.
“Bathroom?”
“Door on the left. Don’t make me wait long.”
I hurry away, shut the door, and lock it. I suddenly need a second to myself before I lose all control and do something very, very stupid.
My heart’s racing.
I’ve already gone further than I planned. I wanted to get him drunk, seduce him, maybe make out a little bit, get his clothes off, then grab the watch and get out of here. Instead, his fingers were inside of me, his mouth was on my mouth, and I came like I’ve been waiting for his touch all my life.
What the hell is wrong with me? And more importantly, who the hell is this guy?
It’s not too late. I can go out there, tell him to close his eyes, and make a dash for it. There’s probably a few million dollars hanging on the walls. I could grab one and pawn it for a month or two’s worth of rent. Even that would be a huge game changer. Just a few hundred dollars would mean a little breathing room for the first time in my life.
Or I could go back out there and obey.
I don’t know what I’m thinking. I use the bathroom just to buy myself some time. I keep feeling his lips on mine, his hands on my skin. My nipples are still hard and there’s a pulse in my core that won’t go away. It’s knowing that he’s out there, waiting for me. And here I am, hiding away.
I look at myself in the mirror.
