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I nod.
“You do that often?”
I nod again, a little indignant this time. “You’d know if you weren’t so scared to touch me lately.”
He doesn’t acknowledge the quip. Or maybe he does; maybe the hard, sudden press of a purple vibrating bullet against my clit is a reprimand. It doesn't feel like one, though, especially when, in a pitiful matter of seconds, I’m throwing my head back and moaning my way through an orgasm that never seems to end.
But it’s not all that much of a relief, not when I know there’s something so much better so close, not when I can feel Cass’ cock straining against his thin shorts, begging for me like I subsequently beg for it. “Please. We can go slow. Gentle.”
Cass groans a laugh, like the idea is absurd, impossible. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You would never.”
Another groan, less of a laugh.
“I know you wouldn’t. I trust you so much.”
God, the noise that leaves him isobscene. Aggressive, almost, like the way he thrusts up against me, making me whine and writhe and claw at him like a wild animal, moaning and begging until finally, he does something. Guiding the vibrator between my shaky fingers, he has me hold it tight against my clit while he fumbles with the waistband of his shorts, shoving them down just enough for his cock to spring free.
“I’m not gonna fuck you, Sunday,” he says, fisting the hard length of him and jerking it once, twice, three times before guiding it between my legs. “Just wanna feel you.”
Matching moans rip from our throats as his cock glides easily through my slick pussy. When the tip nudges my clit and, in turn, the vibrator, Cass shivers, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
“You like that?” I find myself asking, far breathier and more suggestive than I intend.
Eyes on his cock as it slides between my pussy lips, hitting my thrumming clit every time, Cass nods.
“You have toys?”
He nods again, throbbing against me.
“Do you wanna use one?”
“No, baby. Just want this.”
“If there’s something else you like—”
His gaze snaps up to mine. “I likeyou, Sunday.” Pressing a hand to my lower back, he urges me even closer, until he’s one wrong move away from sinking deep. “Like this hot little cunt a lot.”
I whimper a wanton noise, flushing hot enough to burst into flames, rolling my hips almost instinctively, rubbing against Cass’ cock again and again, soaking him until he’s as wet as I am, until…
He slips in. Just a bit. The thick, hot, leaking tip of him sinks inside me, only an inch or so, enough to stretch, to tease, totaunt.
“Sunday,” Cass warns and pleads at the same time, perfectly still.
“Cass,” I only plead, perfectly still too, as aware as him how easy it would be to encourage him deeper, unwilling to be the one to do it. Wanting him to do it.
He does. Or he starts too, at least. He flexes his hips, watching himself disappear another inch, and I’m preparing for another when a sound echoes through the house.
We both freeze. Through the blood rushing in my ears and our heavy panting, it takes a second to pinpoint the sound is a phone ringing.Myphone ringing, coming from the living room.
Swearing, I scramble to my feet, snatching Cass’ t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on, my desperate urge to not wake up August driving me downstairs before I remember he’s not even here. By the time I do, it’s too late; I’ve already grabbed my phone and silenced the call. I’ve already seen the caller.
I check the time.
I know John calling after midnight is a recipe for disaster.
And before I even listen to the three voicemails he left, I know the only person fucking me tonight is him.
