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“Then you start to move.”
Oh, God. She’s going to kill me with words like that. “Keep going.”
“I’ll be slippery wet, and you’ll be hard and hot and…mine.”
I let my thumbs sweep under the edges of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, swiping them below the elastic on the inside of her thighs. “Is this okay?” I whisper.
She glances toward the curtain, and I know she’s afraid that someone will hear us, or that someone will know.
“I just want to touch you.”
Her thighs part ever so subtly, her legs falling open, her knees falling toward the mattress. “Touch me,” she whispers.
I pull her little shorts and panties to the side, exposing her slit. Her lower lips are shiny and wet, glistening with desire. I’ve never touched her here, and I don’t know why I’ve waited so long. She’s perfect. She has a neat thatch of hair on her mound, and her clit sits at the top of her slit, swollen and hard.
“Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Everywhere.”
I run my thumbs up her lips toward her clit, pressing gently as I rub up the sides of her slit, until I can feel the swollen bump at the top. I carefully stroke my thumbs up each side, not touching it, not really. I graze it, over and over.
“Mick,” she says. She glances toward the curtain again.
“Shhh.” She smells like sex, and the salty scent of her tickles my nose. She rocks her hips. “Will you lift your shirt?” I nod toward her chest. “Let me see.”
Slowly, she lifts the tail of her shirt over her flat stomach, raising it inch by inch. The plump bottoms of her breasts appear first, and then she lifts the shirt over them. Her nipples stand hard and proud, her breasts pert but heavy enough that they fall toward the right and left like plump, ripe fruit.
A sound I don’t even recognize leaves my throat. Wren looks toward the curtain again. “They didn’t hear me,” I say to reassure her. I look at her breasts as I rub my thumbs up and down her center, until finally I rub across her clit. She jolts and then stills as I press my thumb tightly against her nub. I don’t move. I hold it there. Her mouth falls open and she bites back a sound.
“Shhh,” I say again.
“Mick…” Her hips roll, and my thumb slides around in her wetness.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes.”
I rub a tight circle, my thumb slippery but firm. “Right here?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes fall closed. “Look at me.”
“I can’t.” She squeezes her eyes tight. I pull my thumb back and her eyes fly open. “Please,” she says.
“Keep your eyes open.”
She nods and chews on her lower lip. I press against her clit again, drawing a small circle as I slide a finger inside her. Her hips buck.
“I’m so close,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“So close—”
And then she comes apart right under my thumb. Watching her come in the shower was a beautiful sight, but this…this is everything. Her flat stomach scrunches up as her body bucks.
“Don’t stop,” she says, and she rides it out, her passion erupting and then slowing to tiny ripples, like a wave on a pond, strong at first and then smaller, and easier, and lighter.
