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I’d shown myself to him already, time after time. The only difference now was that he was close enough to touch… only he didn’t.
I did.
Without pulling my panties aside, I ran my fingers over the sensitive bud of my clit. With his eyes on me, all it took was a barely-there touch to make myself tremble, and for a little gasp to escape my lips.
“Is this ringing a bell?” I asked, switching gears to push my hand inside my panties to touch myself with no barrier between. I was already soaking wet, aching forhimto be the one touching me, but I still didn’t push my underwear aside to let him see.
“Not yet,” he told me, in the deeper, lust-filled tone I recognized from all those late-night video calls. “Keep playing.”
I did what I was told.
I played.
I teased and stroked and rubbed until my thighs were shaking so hard I could barely keep my feet planted on the arms of the chair. So, Wick did it for me, grabbing my ankles to keep me steady as he stood up, stepping between my legs.
“Don’t stop,” he told me before he hooked my legs around his waist to free his hands. Before I could respond, his hands were buried in my hair as he lowered his mouth to mine.
I didn’t stop.
Even as he kissed my breath away, my fingers kept working. Even as his tongue sunk into my mouth, stroking deep, my fingers kept working. Even as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, my fingers kept working. As his fingers grazed my scalp, lighting eventhosenerves on fire, as he groaned into my mouth, as I got wetter and wetter, as that firmly twisted spring of pleasure wound tighter, and tighter, andtighter… my fingers kept working.
Until they couldn’t.
UntilIcouldn’t move, paralyzed by the sudden, overwhelming impact of the orgasm I’d been waiting on far too long. I wanted to scream –tried– to scream, but Wick swallowed it in the kind of kiss I didn’t know I craved until it was happening to me – long, slow licks and sharp nibbles and soothing suckles that I felt all the way down between my legs.
But it wasn’t enough.
Ineededmore of him.
My hands went to the waistband of his sweats, intending to tug it down, but he immediately caught my wrists.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a question that made me frown, because I thought it was obvious. My face must’ve given him a sufficient answer, because he smirked, then stepped in closer. Close enough that now I could feel the gift I’d been trying to unwrap right between my legs, hot and heavy and making me throb, even with the layers of close between us.
His one-handed grip on my hair tightened, just enough to tug my head back a little, so that I was looking up at him in the pale blue illumination from his computer. “Monica… I have… fantasized about having you. Smellingyou. Not your perfume.You.Not just seeing this skin. Touching it. Tasting it. Tastingyou,” he said, bringing the hand I’d used to play up to his mouth. “If you think,” – he stopped to lick my index finger – “I’m going to let you,” – then ring finger – “rush me…” – then middle – “You couldn’t be more incorrect.” He closed his mouth over all three fingers, licking away any traces of…me… that remained. After that, he brought his mouth back to mine, to murmur, “I have every intention of taking my fucking time,” against my lips.
And then he kissed me again.
Harder this time, in an urgently, brutally passionate way that contradicted what he’d just said, but had me squirming on the desktop, ready for more. His hands drifted to my shoulders, down my back, to my waist, then hips before he tucked them underneath me, grabbing my ass to lift me up in a fluid motion that he made seem effortless. He never broke the kiss as he moved us from his office to his room. It wasn’t until he’d lowered me to the bed that he separated his lips from mine.
Both my mind and heart were racing as he flipped on the lamp beside the bed, then pulled me right to the edge, in front of him. He reached underneath my flimsy nightgown to hook his fingers in the sides of my panties, and then slowly dragged them down my legs before he dropped them to the floor.
And then he just… stared. Raked his eyes over me, in a slow, meticulous perusal from my toes to the top of my head.
“What?” I asked finally, suddenly feeling self-conscious about everything from my hair, whichhadto be all over my head, to the softness of my body, to the simple cotton nightie and panties that were a far cry from the extravagantScantalillyI’d fantasized about seducing him in.
The way he grinned at my question caught me off guard – it wasn’t a sexy smirk, it was outright… giddy. He laughed a little, then ran his tongue over his lips before he leaned down, planting his hands on either side of me on the bed as he brought himself to eye level with me.
“Told you so.”
My eyes narrowed. “Uh… what?”
“I said,told you so.All those times on the phone, I called you beautiful, and your response was always,boy stop, how you know?” he teased, mocking my voice.
“Whatever, I don’t sound like that.”
He grinned again. “Maybe not. But still. I was right. This whole time… I wasright as hell.You aresogoddamned beautiful.”
I…shit.
