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My eyes had been squeezed shut, but I forced them open. I looked into his beautiful face as he moved two fingers between the lips of my pussy and found the slickness there, waiting for him.
His eyes flickered wider when he discovered how wet I was from him. He looked like he was going to say something about it, but he just moved those two fingers through the wetness until he reached my opening.
“I’m going to finger you,” he said, our eyes still locked.
It should have been less hot with him telling me everything before it happened, but somehow, it only heightened every move. I bit my lip harder, waiting. But then I realized he wanted me to say it was okay.
The only word that came out was, “Please.”
He swallowed hard. Then, he thrust forward, inserting one finger inside of me. I couldn’t look at him any longer. I tipped my head backward and arched against the couch.
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
“How does that feel?” he asked, voice strained.
“Good,” I groaned.
Then, a second finger joined it, stretching me easily.
“And this?”
“Uh,” I gasped. “Fuck.”
He started a slow, steady rhythm, in and out. In and out. I could feel my body coiling in on itself. The tempo dragging me closer to the edge. All of the pent-up energy I’d been holding on to coalescing into something primal in my core.
Then, his thumb joined the mix. He slicked it through my wetness and then circled it slowly—so fucking slowly—against my clit. I couldn’t help it; I gasped. My legs shamelessly fell farther apart. I wanted more. I would give him anything at this point. He had to know it, too, because I could feel his own breathing matching mine.
“Are you close?” he asked.
His thumb circled faster and harder. Just like how I did it when I was alone in my room. Only this was Weston’s hand, his thumb, and I had no idea what the fuck he was going to do next.
“I…I…”
He curled his fingers up inside of me as he dragged them in and out. And something about that motion and the faster tempo and him working my clit made everything go fuzzy at the edges. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I could barely function at all.
“Come for me,” he whispered hoarsely against my ear.
And I was already there. So close. That, at the filthy words, I broke apart. Everything snapped, and I shuddered, my pussy contracting against his fingers over and over, as if trying to keep him from releasing me.
I made incoherent sounds of pleasure as the climax hit me. And then when I finally came down, I cracked my eyes open and looked at him with sex eyes, my chest heaving from the exertion.
“West,” I whispered.
He slowly withdrew his hand from my underwear—he hadn’t even needed to remove it. My eyes drifted to the sweats he had on. His erection was jutting upward, and he pressed his hand against it to cover it. As if he didn’t even want me to see what my orgasm had done to him.
“There,” he said. “You’re not difficult at all.”
He shot me a small smile and then disappeared into his room, leaving me in a puddle of goo and a swirl of confusion.
