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“I don’t even know your name,” I tell him.
His upper lip twitches in irritation, his hands gripping the sheets even tighter. “You don’t need to know my name.”
“I beg to differ.” I stand, feeling the instant relief in my muscles, and take a step away. His eyes comically dart from me, back to the toy. “If I’m going to fuck this cock,” I say, swallowing because the dirty words don’t feel right in my mouth. “Then I’m going to need your name.” I stop short of crossing my arms over my chest because the action may be just a little too much for him to handle.
“Liam Stone,” he says without hesitation, but then he growls again when I continue to stand there.
I need a second. I need a little time to run his name through my mind. I repeat it over and over in my head before his next growl sets me into motion. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation of how it’s going to feel as I resituate myself above the toy.
I don’t feel sexy at all as I have to look down and hold the thing in my fingers to line it up right. But then I squat a little lower, one hand gripping the bedpost.
The first couple of inches forces that moan I was trying to hold back out of my mouth. The next inch makes my mouth fall open, and I watch him, pleased at the way that he shifts and angles his head so he can see a little better. He’s entranced much the same way I feel when I’m watching him in the shower.
“Do you want me to picture that it’s you?” I whisper. His cock jerks against his lower abdomen. “Are you imagining it’s your cock I’m sliding… Oh God,” I moan when I take the thing fully inside of me.
It makes me feel full and a little achy but not in a way that makes me want to stand and refuse. It burns in a way that makes my body beg for more and so I give it exactly what it needs as I stand and then lower myself back down. I do this over and over, slow and steady.
“Jesus,” he grunts but I'm no longer watching him. Paying attention to him when my body feels this good just isn't possible. He doesn't complain as I tilt my head forward, my jaw still hanging open in awe at the way it makes me feel. I watch it, that toy that less than ten minutes ago felt like a weapon, as it brings me the most pleasure I've ever felt before in my life.
I don't speed up when my body urges me to. I want to take the scenic route with this orgasm because I know it's going to leave me drained. The urgency for relief slams into me and I have to release the bedpost with one hand and stroke myself between my legs. My head angles back, my eyes unseeing, my breath hitching.
“Fuck, that's it, Raya. Don't stop.”
I couldn't if I tried. I would probably claw and scratch and scream if he demanded that of me. There's no way to stop this. No way to impede what's coming, and as the first wave of orgasm hits me, I risk a glance in his direction. The power of my release doubling when I watch his cock jerk, cum jetting from the tip. The man didn't even have to touch himself to come. He didn't have to stroke his length or tug on his balls the way I know that he likes. Watching me was all that it took, and that says a lot about what I needed to know.
Chapter 21
Liam
We stare at each other for a long moment as if neither one of us can believe what just happened.
I don't recall a moment in my life, even as a teenager, that I was able to come without touching my cock. Maybe it's because I never resisted the urge before. It's possible I’ve always had the ability, but I highly doubt it. She's the reason for this. The way she moaned, the way she looked surprised that riding that toy felt so good.
I can't pull my eyes away from her as she lifts herself off that fake cock. My own dick hasn't flagged at all. I don't know that it will anytime soon. The drop I always experience after coming hasn’t happened yet.
“Can we watch more of that baking show?” she asks as if she's not only two minutes past her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she came.
“After we shower,” I answer as I climb off the bed. That Black cock is glistening, covered in her arousal, and I know that if I don't step around her and head to the bathroom, I'm going to do something really fucking stupid with it.
I figure I can get a shower first. I can be quick and efficient and then she can take all the time she needs. Her footsteps follow close behind me as I reach into the shower to turn the water on. I freeze after stepping inside before I can tilt my head back underneath the spray.
She's carrying the dildo into the bathroom. And of course I'm still hard as I watch her wash it in the sink. Bubbles cover her hands and the cock as she strokes up and down it. She's not doing it to impress me. She's not doing it to turn me on.
But it doesn't matter. God, I want her hands on me. I want her mouth on me. I want to swallow her moans. I want to taste and lick and nip and bite every inch of her body—the backs of her knees, the tops of her thighs, her shoulders. I want to suck on her fingers.
“Goddammit,” I grumble, finally tilting my head back into the water. I'm reaching for the shampoo when she smacks the dildo onto the countertop. The suction cup takes hold, and it wiggles back and forth as if taunting her when she releases it. But she doesn't hesitate to turn to face the shower. She doesn't pause her steps as she walks closer. And of course my cock is still hard. I may die with an erection at this point.
She's careful not to touch me as she slides past me and turns on the shower head opposite of the one I'm standing under. We've never done this before. We've never shared the shower. I've never threatened her with it, despite wanting to every single time she's in here alone.
She's not trying to turn me on but it doesn't take much these days. A sleepy smile, a yawn, the way her lips wrap around a fresh strawberry as she watches television. She's torturing me and I don't even think she knows it.
There's no medical reason for my cock to still be pointing at her. I came so hard watching her that it should have flagged already. It's unsatisfied despite the pleasure it felt earlier.
“I'm sorry,” I tell her, apologizing for the first time in a very long time. I have to. I grip my cock, stroking it as I glare at her. I'm not mad or angry. I'm not upset. If anything, I'm confused because I don't understand why she makes me feel the way that I feel.
I mean, yeah, she's beautiful. Her body is fucking phenomenal. But she's not the first beautiful woman I've seen with a phenomenal body. It's not the way she looks. Her good looks don't hurt but that's not what's making me feel this way. It's her, just her.
“I know,” she says softly. “It looks painful.”
