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No one else in the world exists.
When he pauses, my heart thrashes painfully in my chest, and my mouth dries, making it necessary for my tongue to dart out and moisten my lips. He hasn’t even touched me, and my breath has become labored.
That’s when I recognize the feelings rushing through my veins.
Anticipation.
Fear as well, but excitement at this new experience.
My fingers curl, the rounded nails scraping across the comforter until I’m gripping it in my hands.
Will he say something, and I’ll hear the sound of his voice?
Is it deep and husky?
Because that’s the way I imagine it.
An image of Wolf pops into my head, along with the kiss we shared in the alley. As much as I want to banish it, that’s impossible. I’ve spent way too much time thinking about it.
Thinking about what it would be like to go further with him.
Those thoughts are knocked from my brain when a heavy weight settles on the mattress. Even though I’m blind to everything around me, I turn my face in his direction. Like before, his fingers drift across my cheeks, tracing the line of my jaw before sweeping across my lips. Back and forth he strums as liquid warmth pools between my thighs.
One thick digit is pressed between my lips as if to test my response. Unconsciously they part, allowing him entrance. A slight saltiness floods my senses. The tip lays against my tongue and I don’t realize that I’ve closed around him and drawn the finger in deeper until a pained groan rumbles up from his chest. The guttural sound is enough to have another round of arousal detonating in my core. The fact that I can turn him on by simply sucking on his finger feels heady and powerful.
I can’t deny that it turns me on.
His finger slips free before both hands drift to the tie cinched around my waist. He pauses for a heartbeat. Then another. When I writhe beneath him, he loosens it, drawing both sides open until I’m fully exposed.
It’s so tempting to rip the mask off my face so I can finally see who this man is. The one who bought my virginity. The one who is showing me more pleasure than he’s taking. Instead, my arms stay pinned to my sides.
Not more than a handful of seconds later, he presses his lips to the ugly scar that has always made me shrink and hide within myself.
But here’s a man who isn’t repulsed or disgusted by my physical imperfection. The permanent reminder of the worst night of my life. The one that changed everything.
It’s strange to realize that he’s giving me so much more than money.
He kisses every millimeter of it, laving his tongue over the old wound. When there can be no denying his feelings about it, he straightens to a seated position. His fingers pluck at my nipples in tandem, tweaking and playing with them until they’re both hard little points that beg for his attention. My spine arches, seeking out more of his touch.
When his fingers disappear from one breast, a protest escapes from me just as he draws one pert tip between his lips and sucks it deep into the warmth of his mouth. Need explodes inside me like a firework, and I gasp at the sensation that ricochets through my entire being. It’s as if there’s an invisible string connecting the tip of my breast to my pussy. As soon as sensation flares to life in one, the other throbs with arousal.
Another groan breaks loose from me as he pops one tip free before giving the same delicious attention to the other side. I can’t help but twist beneath him.
I never imagined this experience would give me so much pleasure. I thought it would be something I needed to endure to pay my tuition bill.
But that hasn’t turned out to be the case.
I want this.
I want him.
Whoever he is.
I’ve spent time daydreaming about two men this week.
The one who bought my virginity.
And Wolf.
