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“Never?”
“Never.”
She’s so open and honest with me. It’s only fair I give her some honesty of my own. “I don’t know that you can touch me and me not make a mess of us.”
“Just from my touch?”
“Yourtouch.”
“Can we do that? I want to watch you.”
“Fuck.”
“Please? Just like that night in my room, only this time I get to help, and so do you.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, baby girl?” I want this, want her more than my next fucking breath, but I need clear consent from her. It’s important with the way this is happening between us that I have at least that.
“I want you. I want this. I want us. I’m sober, and I’m of sound mind and body.” She chuckles. “If you are anything, Roman, be certain that you are what I want.”
“I want you.”
That’s all the encouragement she needs. She grips my cock and strokes me gently.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, baby.”
“The piercing? Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s meant for pleasure. Mine and yours.”
I feel her body shiver.
“We’ll work our way up to that.”
She’s fucking killing me with her innocence. It’s a stark reminder of our age difference. She’s going to be twenty next week, and an adult, but still ten years my junior. That should make me want to stop, but I don’t feel that gap between us. I haven’t for a while now.
“Where are you going?” I ask when she releases me from her grip and moves away.
“I need the light. I don’t want to miss this.”
All I can do is shake my head and smile, because this woman is impossible to say no to. “I’m all yours, baby girl.”
She grins. It’s one of triumph and mischief, and she scoots down the bed and grips my cock. She strokes me a few times before tentatively leaning forward and swiping her tongue across the tip.
I fist the sheets at my sides, because the alternative is to grip her hair in my fist, and she’s not there yet. She’s learning and exploring, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to be the test subject.
“It really doesn’t hurt?”
“No.” I take my hand and place it over hers, showing her she can grip me harder. Pump me faster. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Why is that so hot?” she asks, watching our joined hands.
I don’t bother answering, because I don’t have an answer. Normally, that would turn me on, but not to the point where I feel like I’m ready to explode. It’s Emerson and her effect on me. There is no other explanation.
“I’m close.” The words are gritty, like sandpaper on my tongue.
“Oh, I guess I should do this then.” She pushes my hand away, leans over, and takes me into her mouth.
