Page 35 of The Boyfriend Experience

But he pulls back. Withdraws his finger.

I stare at him, aghast. “What are you doing?”

The mischievous smile should be enough, but he takes it one step further and confirms my suspicions. “Taking my time.”

My breathing is heavy and quick, my mind spinning and a bit dizzy. My eyes want to close and I want him to go back to licking me, but he stands up.

“More,” I say, whispering the words.

“Oh, you’re gonna get more, Oaklee. Much more.”

He kicks off his shoes and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

I watch, transfixed by his perfectly muscled chest. And then he drags his jeans down his legs, kicks them aside, and just… stands there.

Moonlight is shining through the windows of my penthouse. Illuminating him on one side, keeping him cast in shadow on the other.

He is Adonis. He is David. He is perfection.

His cock is long and hard, lying against his thigh. The tip round and the shaft fat. He is fully erect. Ready for me.

So why won’t he just take me?

“Take me,” I beg.

He just shakes his head no.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He says nothing. Just sits down on the couch and pats his thigh. A come-hither gesture. A sit-on-my-lap invitation.

I don’t even hesitate. Just stand up, walk the few steps that separate us, and sit down on his lap again, pressing my pussy against his cock to try to entice him into giving in.

“Whoa there, cowgirl,” he says, his eyes still twinkling with mischief. “We’re not quite ready for that yet.”

How? I ask myself. How can he be so calm and in control and ready to go slow when all I want is for him to fuck me hard and make me come?

How could we be so different?

“Take off the jacket, please.”

I huff out a laugh. But I have that thing off in two seconds.

“Good,” he says, playing with my hair. “Now the shirt.”

Now we’re getting somewhere, I want to say back. But I don’t. Because I don’t think he wants me to be playful. I don’t think he wants me to do anything but listen to him and do exactly what he says.

So I grab the hem of my t-shirt and lift it up over my head, my breasts rising as I do it. I toss it aside, expecting him to be looking at my breasts and the way they want to spill out of my sexy demi bra, but he’s not. He’s looking me in the eyes when I find his gaze.

“Take it off,” he says.

My bra, obviously. So I reach around, unclasp the hooks, and the tension of the elastic eases, letting my breasts fall out of their tight constraint.

I feel like I can’t breathe. He’s watching me, still not looking at my breasts. But he’s got a small smile creeping up his face. Like this is going exactly the way he planned.

I shrug out of the bra and let it fall to the floor, unconsciously pressing my breasts together with my upper arms.

My nipples are tight, the soft skin stretched as they peak up.