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“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” he asks.
“Tell me what you’d do,” I challenge, my eyebrows raised.
His eyes roam over my face. I don’t know if he’s trying to see if I’m joking or what, but I’m not. I want to know all the dirty things he’d do to me, so I can think about them at night when I get myself off to his fucking face.
His grip on my neck loosens, and he lays his palm flat against my chest. If he’d just move his fingers a few inches, they’d be brushing against my breasts. I’m about to fucking come at the thought.
I think he’s having some sort of internal struggle with himself. He’s at war with his mind. I get it, I really do.
“First, I’d move this sexy little dress to the side and fall to my knees,” he starts, and I swear to fucking God I can’t breathe.
“I know you’re not wearing panties, so I’d throw this leg over my shoulder and run my finger through the slit of your pretty little pussy.” His knee nudges against my leg, indicating which leg he’s talking about.
I lean my head back against the pillar, because I honestly feel like I’m going to explode.
“A finger won’t be enough, so I’ll replace it with my tongue, twirling and nibbling, tasting your delicious pussy,” he whispers, his hot breath on my ear.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“No, even better… Clark,” he says, smirking when I look up at him.
If I wasn’t so fucking turned on, I’d probably roll my eyes.
“After I make you come with my mouth, while you’re screaming for a God that will never come, then I’ll make my way up your body, cherishing every inch of this fucking perfect body.”
My breathing is heavy, my chest heaving up and down, and my lips parted. Rain is still falling down all over the two of us.
“What else?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
His eyes lock with mine just as lighting paints the sky a bright white. I can briefly see the heat in his eyes.
“Then I’d push myself inside of you and fuck you fast and hard, while you scream my name into the dark.”
“I’m going to come,” I tell him, and I don't mean in this fantasy.
I mean right now.
“Come for me, beauty,” he says.
He’s still not touching me, aside from his palm laying on my chest. His face is only inches from mine.
“I want you to touch me. Touch me in all the places that you’re talking about.” I’m practically begging.
I don’t even fucking care anymore.
“I can’t, baby. Just come for me,” he says.
I can hear the anguish in his voice. I know he wants to touch me just as badly as I want him to.
If we cross that line, there’s no coming back. We’ve already crossed too many lines.
“I just know that your pretty little pussy would feel amazing fucking convulsing around my dick right now. I know you’re so wet right now. I can smell how delicious you are. I want to taste you so bad.”
His words make me fall apart. It feels like I just did a free fall off a cliff and crashed into the water.
“Holy shit,” I say, breathing heavily, tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
