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I dig my nails into his back. "Joel." My voice breaks into a whine. That's not right. He's the one who's supposed to be begging me.
He's the one who's supposed to be desperate.
I dig my hands into his hair and bring his mouth to my other nipple. He flicks his tongue against me again and again. Then he's swirling his tongue around the bud.
Sucking soft.
Sucking hard.
He scrapes his teeth against me. Harder. Harder. Hard enough I cry out.
I tug at his hair.
I rock my hips against him.
He feels so good like this, his mouth on my chest, his cock against my sex.
But I have to torture him.
I plant my hands on his shoulders and push myself up, off the bed. This is a cozy bedroom. The only other place to sit is the dresser. But it's just low enough that it will work.
I take three steps backwards. Then I push everything off the top of the dresser.
"Angel…" Joel's eyes fill with need as he looks up at me. "Sit."
I do.
"Take off your panties."
I push them to my knees then they fall off my ankles.
"Spread your legs."
I do.
"Wider."
I plant one foot on the dresser. Then the other. It's a difficult position. I have to lean my back against the wall to get the angle right.
But I know I've got it from the way all the breath leaves his body at once.
My eyes fix on his as I slide my hand down my torso, past my belly button, below my pelvis.
Waves of pleasure flow through me as I rub my clit with my middle finger. I'm already wound up, already needy, already close.
My need to come threatens to derail this.
I bring my gaze back to Joel. He's staring at me like I'm the best thing he's every seen.
His eyes are wide.
His teeth are sinking into his bottom lip.
He lets out a low groan. "Fuck yourself."
My sex clenches. "I don't usually—"
"Put your first two fingers together."
