“Please…”
“You want my cock, Katee?” He arches a brow, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a playful smile. My God, he’s the hottest guy on the planet. I mean, I always thought he was good looking, but this feral energy he’s exuding—this alpha side of him—it’s messing with me in the strangest ways. It must be some kind of chemical imbalance from watching porn and thinking about sex for the last twenty-four hours. “You want me to fuck that sweet pussy you have on display for me?”
“Yesss,” I hiss at his delicious dirty talk. “I want your cock in me. I want you to make me scream.”
He falters for a brief second, and I kind of like that I can mess with this calm façade he’s trying so hard to present. He pulls himself up to his full height, and I’m impressed at how fast he gathers himself, and starts moving around me again. Warm fingers touch my thigh, a soft caress as he slides his big hand between my legs.
“I might want to fuck you with my fingers and mouth first,” he says. “I want you wet and hot and begging for my cock.” He lightly strokes my sex, prolonging the foreplay, and I cry out as my clit throbs. “Are you hurting for it, Katee?” he asks as he inserts a finger, and just holds it there, unmoving.
“Yes.” I move my hips, shake my body, anything to get him to move his finger already.
“You still think I can’t make you come?”
“No. I’m already close.”
His chuckle vibrates through me, but he’s not as in control as he’d like me to believe. There’s a needy tremor in his tone, a slight shake to his hands as he touches me.
“So nice and wet,” he says, and I lift my hips when he pulls his finger out. He brings it to his mouth, and sucks on it.
“Motherfucker,” he murmurers. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter.”
I grip the slats tighter. “When do I get to taste?” I ask, just to provoke a reaction from him.
He falters slightly again, and I keep the smile from my face. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a taste later. Right now, all this sweet juice is just for me. I’m not into sharing just yet.”
“Such a greedy guy.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he says, and slides his finger back into me, instantly finding the magical bundle of nerves that has always mysteriously eluded every other guy.
“I can be greedy too,” I say and move my hips as he fucks me with his finger.
He cocks a brow. “I’ve never know you to be greedy, Katee.”
I glance at his cock. “After I give you a porn star blow job, I want all your cum.”
“Fuck,” he says on a shaky breath, and I bite my bottom lip, loving that I can rattle him like this, and surprised that I find it so easy to talk dirty to him. Never before have I been able to do that, not without fearing I’d sound silly, or that my partner would laugh at me. But Luke, he’s not laughing. Oh no, he’s not laughing at all. He grips his cock again, and as he strokes, little tremors tug at my sex. Jesus, he’s seriously going to bring me to orgasm without even trying.
“Your turn, Katee Kat.”
I chuckle at the nickname. He hasn’t called me that in years. I slide one hand down my body, feeling the dampness in my trimmed pubic hair. Cripes, the only time I ever get this wet is when I’m alone and using lubricant.
“Show me what you like. Show me how you like to touch that hot little cunt of yours.”
Oh, God!
I run my finger over my clit, slow at first, until it’s all swollen and sensitive, then I dip a finger inside my sex, and press into my palm. I lift my hips, rotate them, and let loose a needy moan that seems to do something to Luke. As my muscles clench, I become fully aware that I’m masturbating in front of Luke. Heck, I’ve never touched myself in front of a guy before, and usually have sex with the lights off. By rights, I should be embarrassed, or at least self-conscious, but oddly enough I’m not. This isn’t any old guy I’m with. This is Luke. A guy who has always been there for me, done everything for me. Why shouldn’t he be the first to give me an orgasm? Show me what I’ve been missing out on in the bedroom.
“Stop,” he commands in a low, tortured voice. His nostrils flare, but I don’t take my hand away. No, I continue to play with myself and his breathing changes, becomes labored.
“What part of stop didn’t you understand?” he asks through clenched teeth, and I have to say, I seriously love this side of him.
“It just feels so good.”
“Not as good as I’m going to make you feel.”
He climbs onto the bed and falls over me, taking my hand from between my legs and replacing it with his own. “This,” he says, giving my sex a squeeze. “This is all mine now. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say, my entire body on hyperdrive, so damn anxious for him to do all the dirty thing things he’s promised. Who knew I’d like a filthy-talking hockey player, or that I’d want to talk dirty right back to him? Here I was always a little self-conscious about myself in bed. Body image issues left over from my youth. But with him, I’m anything but. Probably because he’s the guy who always made me feel better about myself, despite my size, and my dyslexia. The question is, will I be so free with the next guy I date? Or am I only able to let go with my best friend?