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But, wait!
Cullen isn’t done yet…
I shove my hand between our bodies.
I feel his thickness against his jeans.
I hurry and wrestle with the zipper. I pull and twist and win the fight against the button.
I inch my body to my left and slide my hand into the front of his jeans.
Now I’m touching him.
The real him.
His hard, smooth, warm length.
It’s like he goes for miles.
You need a toll pass to go root to tip.
“Cullen,” I groan.
His hands grab my sides and squeeze tight.
“Right there, love,” he growls. “Stroke fast… as fast as your hand can fucking move…”
I bite my own lip.
I squeeze my legs together, ready to come again.
I did what Cullen needed from me.
My hand racing along his hard thickness.
I feel him get bigger.
Which has to be impossible.
But it’s not.
He then thrusts at my hand.
He grunts a few times and holds his breath.
I gasp when I feel that first warm spurt against my hand.
Inside his jeans it’s a gooey mess of delight.
I don’t stop moving my hand though.
Up and down, gliding his own desire against himself.
I keep going too.
Until he touches my wrist and then looks at me.
“That’s good, love,” he says, exhaling a breath.
