They both looked down then, and the sight of her long fingers wrapped around his ruddy cock, her pale, plump thigh gleaming in the light of his bedside lamp, the swollen wetness of her lower lip…
The urge to rut into her hand, against her giving flesh, overwhelmed him. He had to close his eyes for a moment to regain even a sliver of control.
When he opened them again, she asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
Silently, he shook his head. Closing his fingers over hers, he tightened her clasp.
She didn’t move a millimeter. “I need words.”
“Don’t stop. Please.”
His voice was hoarse, and maybe he would have been embarrassed by that, by his pleading, another time, or with another woman. But not now, and not with Tess. Not with the way she immediately responded.
Her smile, the slow slide of her hand along his aching flesh, were his rewards, and they were more than enough. He helped her find the rhythm, then let go and lay back, helpless before her.
“You never have to beg.” She leaned over him, arching her back until her breasts were within reach of his mouth, and God, he didn’t deserve her. “Unless begging turns you on.”
The edges of his vision were already turning white, and he couldn’t deny the truth. “It does. With you.”
Her silky hair fell around their faces, hiding them from the outside world. He smelled sweat and peachy apricots and edelweiss, and it was yet more enticement to buck his hips, to pump into her hand and groan in exultant agony.
Raising his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, licking it and taking it carefully between his teeth. Then fell back when he couldn’t concentrate anymore, couldn’t moderate the pressure of the bite.
He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.
Her rhythm never sped up. Each stroke of her hand remained slow and excruciating, even as he threw back his head and made low, rough noises and panted.
“Look at you,” she murmured. “You’re so swollen and thick now. So wet. Gorgeous.”
With her thumb, she gathered more moisture from the tip of his cock and spread it, adding a slight twist of her hand until everything was slick and unbearable.
He was delirious with need, thrusting jerkily into her grip, against her lush thigh. Her breasts swayed with his near-violent movements, but she still didn’t speed up. Didn’t take him over the edge into glorious nothingness.
Then he understood.
“Please,” he said, his voice strangled.
Her hand paused. “Say it again.”
“Please make me come.” He heaved upward and captured her mouth in a brief, desperate kiss. “I need you.”
Her slow smile was gorgeous. Befitting a benevolent goddess bestowing her favor on a worthy mortal.
Her fingers tightened on his cock, and suddenly she was pumping him without pause, her pace magnificent and unforgiving. He shouted, the ecstasy of it like lightning forking up his spine.
In seconds, he was moaning and heaving and spurting all over her belly and thighs and hand, his mind absolutely, wonderfully blank. She nursed him through it, her grip turning gentler, her lips on his sweet and coaxing. Then she sat back and let him recover, stroking his chest with one hand.
He was jelly on the mattress. Incapable of movement. At least until he caught her subtle squirming, the way she was rubbing her thighs together the tiniest bit.
“Did that turn you on?” he managed to rasp out.
“That”—she lifted her slick hand with a rueful smile—“has never made me hot before. But…yeah. This time, it did. You did.”
Somehow, that felt almost as good as his orgasm.
With a fingertip, he traced the edge of her panties along her belly. “You want me to take care of it? Take care of you?”
Her head dipped in a little nod.
