Sweet Torture
SLADE
“Take your shirt off,” I say.
She bites her lip. “I thought you were being a gentleman.”
“Shirt off, sweetheart.”
Keeping her eyes on me, she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. Her breasts nearly spill out of the black lace bra and my hand goes to my dick on instinct, giving it a stroke at the sight her.
“Bra too,” I order, voice rough.
Reaching behind her, she unclasps her bra and lets it fall.
Fucking finally. I’ve been dreaming of seeing her topless for I don’t know how long now. The reality of her is even better than I could have ever dreamed. I can’t take my eyes off her full, lush tits, topped with rosy nipples begging to be sucked.
“God,” I say raggedly. “Look at you.”
Color moves up her throat. “What about me?”
“You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” I say. “I could come just looking at you. But I gotta touch too.” I reach out and cup her breast in my hand, feel her breath catch. “Perfect. You’re absolutely perfect.” My thumb circles along her nipple and she shuts her eyes.
The confession tumbles out of me. “Every night since I met you, when I come, it’s thinking about you. And you being right down the hall from me, smelling hints of your perfume, you wearing my clothes like you do… it’s been torture, baby. The sweetest kind of torture.”
Her eyelids flutter as I pinch the rosy bud between my fingertips.
“Time to make it better,” she whispers. The soft longing, the affection in her voice, hits in me in my solar plexus. She wants me as much as I want her.
She works at my belt and gets the button, then the zipper. My cock springs free, flushed dark and already leaking, and her breath catches at the sight of it. Her cool fingers wrap around my cock and the groan comes out before I can stop it.
As she wraps her hand around me, I’m already leaking copious amounts of precum.
I don’t know if I should be embarrassed about that, how eager I am, how obvious my body is making it that I’m so down bad for her, but Lila seems to like what she sees.
Her eyes are focused on my dick as she rubs up and down, twisting at the head. It’s so good my eyes want to roll back in my head. She goes slow, coating my dick with precum until it’s shiny, the thick veins along my shaft standing out in stark relief.
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking about,” she murmurs, eyes lifting to me. “When you’ve been jerking off to me, what do you think about?”
I lean my head back against the headboard, watching her through half-lidded eyes.
Her fingers were cool when she first touched me but my cock is so hot and hard it’s warmed up her fingers too.
I linger on the sight of her pretty red fingernails on my dick.
I especially love seeing the diamond on her hand as she strokes me.
The ring I picked, on my wife’s hand, wrapped around my cock. Mine. All of it mine.
In a low rasp, I admit, “I imagine sliding my cock between those perfect fucking tits. Picture them bouncing while you ride me.”
She bites her lip. Her tits jiggle as she rubs me and her breathing is going shallow. “What else?” she whispers.
“I imagine that pink little pussy stretched over my cock. Thought about spreading your legs and fucking you on every surface of this house. On top of the dining table. Bending you over the bathroom counter. Baby, I’ve fucked you a thousand different ways in my head.”
My hips shift up involuntarily as her grip tightens.
Her own eyes are heavy with lust now, her lips puffy where she’s biting down on one. Her thighs are clenching together as I talk.
Holy fuck. She’s getting off just from touching me, just from hearing me talk about her. Her thighs are pressing together and she’s losing concentration. I love that I did that.
I close my hand over hers and tighten and pull up. I suck in a breath when her hand reaches the sensitive head.
“Straddle me,” I say.
She pouts. “Your job is to relax and let me take care of you.”
“Lila.” I suck in a breath as she strokes her thumb across the slit at the tip and pleasure arcs straight up my spine. More precum leaks over her fingers and she spreads it down my shaft with a slow twist. My hands twist in the sheets.
“Put your ass in my lap,” I demand. “I want to touch you.”
“Mm.” She gives me that look, the one that’s been making it difficult to think straight for months, the tilted head and the sweet smile, and twists her wrist on the upstroke. I hiss through my teeth.
“I’m comfortable right here,” she says.
“I need…” I trail off.
I’ve never in my life begged for anything. Not on the ice, not in bed, not in any negotiation or argument or difficult conversation I’ve ever had. Wanting something so bad I’ll beg for it is not in my nature.
Then I met my wife.
“Please, baby.” My voice comes out rough and stripped of everything except the truth of it. “Let me get my hands on you. I’ve been wanting to touch you for months and you’re right there and I…”
Her thumb skims over the head of my dick and I lose every word I had.
“I need you,” I say. The raw confession sits between us.
The teasing softens in her eyes. “You have me. I’m yours.” She leans in and brings her mouth to mine. The kiss is brief and deep, her free hand cupping my jaw, and I feel that kiss all the way down to my toes.
Then she swings her leg over and settles her weight on my thighs, her knees on either side of me, keeping her hand moving.
I’m so eager to touch her I get my hands on her before she’s fully settled.
Her waist first, the dip before her hips flare out, then her ribs, the curve of them under my palms. Then up, cupping her breasts, feeling their weight and their softness and the way her nipples are already hard against my palms.
“Happy now?” she asks, pink hair tumbling over one shoulder as she tilts her head, her hand still moving on me. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows that I know. Her eyes are dancing.
“Never been happier. Fuck, Lila.” I hear myself say it from somewhere outside my body. “You’re gonna make me come so fucking hard.”
She licks her lips slowly, her dark eyes holding mine. “Would you like me to suck you off, my love?”
The image of it, her mouth on me, those beautiful eyes looking up at me, hits me so hard I have to close my eyes for a second.
My love.
My cock throbs in her hand but it’s my chest that takes the real hit. She said it easy, like she didn’t even notice, like it’s already just what I am to her.
“If you do that,” I say, when I trust my voice again, “I’m gonna come in about two seconds.” I open my eyes and look at her, flushed and beautiful and sitting in my lap with her hand wrapped around me like she belongs there.
Because she does. She has for a long time.
I’m finally admitting it.
“I want this to last,” I say. “Keep stroking me. Just like that.”
She obliges. Long, slow strokes, her wrist twisting just enough.
Meanwhile I watch her and learn her. The weight of her breasts in my palms, full and warm and more than a handful.
The softness of her skin under my thumbs.
The way her breathing changes when I do something she really likes.
A small sharp intake, her whole chest rising, her hand tightening on me in immediate response like her body and mine are on the same circuit.
Both of us sparking at exactly the same moment.
I can feel the warmth of her pussy even through the thin fabric still between us. The thought of her clit aching the way my cock is aching, of her being this wound up just from touching me, makes the pleasure coil tighter.
“You have any idea what you do to me?” I say. “Wearing my flannel in the morning with nothing underneath it but a pair of knee socks. Walking around this house without a clue what effect it had on me.”
“Maybe I knew.” Her hips roll forward again.
“Yeah?” I tweak her nipples between my fingers and watch her eyes go heavy and her lips part.
Her rhythm on me falters. “Then you were doing it on purpose.” I pull her hips closer against me, closing the last of the distance between us.
“Hoping I’d lose all self-control and bend you over, give you the fuck you’ve been begging for? ”
“Yes,” she breathes. The word coming out breathless and vulnerable, but certain all the same. “It’s all I think about when you’re near me.” Her eyes meet mine. “When you’re not near me. All the time, Slade.”
I’ve been thinking about her all the time too.
Not just how much I’m dying to fuck her, either.
I’m thinking about her when I’m out on the range at six in the morning, trying to concentrate on moving cattle, but actually worrying whether she’ll remember to eat lunch in the middle of her install.
When I’m fixing fences with Rafe and realize I haven’t heard a word he’s said in ten minutes because I’m wondering if Lila’s thinking about me too.
Wondering if she’s got her music on at home, what new treasures she’s filling our house with.
Lying awake at night with two doors and a hallway between us feeling like miles of impassable wall.
I want her. Not just her body, though God knows I want that too, have wanted it since the moment she climbed over that fence in a pink bunny costume and looked up at me with those brown eyes.
I want her hair on my pillow every day, not just because I lay her down at night to make love to her, but because that’s how we wake up every morning, still tangled together.
I want to be the one she texts when something goes wrong and first one the one she looks for when she walks into a room.
I want her softness and her empathy and that incandescent warmth she brings to everything she touches.
And that includes me.
I want that and I want it for as long as she’ll let me have it.
I don’t know how to say any of that yet. So I’ll show her instead.
I dig my fingers into her hips. “Show me, sweetheart. Let me touch that pretty pussy. Let me feel what’s mine.”