Chapter 11
ELEVEN
WESTON
I want to do a lot more than watch.
I want to change her life, skin to skin.
Brand her on a molecular level. Flesh, tongue, teeth, fingers, cock. I want to use every part of me to make her feel good.
This gorgeous girl who’s too perfect for words. I’ll use my body to show her what she’s worth. What she should hold out her heart for.
Make her back bow, her legs shake, until she’s crying out. For more, for less, until she screams that it’s too much.
I won’t stop until I’m satisfied she’s had enough.
This whole waiting game we’ve played might be dangerous. Because it’s built up a thirst, a raging appetite that will be damn near impossible to quench in just one night.
I’ll do my fucking best to try though.
But that’s still hours away.
Right now? I’ll happily watch, like the good boy I am. Not touching anything I’m not supposed to, because I can follow the rules, despite popular opinion about me. In fact, this girl in my bed might be about the only one who believes the best in me, and I’m going to prove her right.
“Please,” I croon. “Show me what I’ve been missing out on, darlin’.”
Amelia shifts on the bed beneath me, stretched out on her back, legs tucked under her, thighs spread just enough for me to watch anything she wants to show me. Her tits are a worthwhile distraction, covered in my cum as she lays there, and if I were allowed to touch her I’d run my fingers through it, trace designs on her skin with the marks of my release that was all for her.
“Burn it into my memory, angel. Make sure every time I get in this bed, I remember you coming in it.”
She makes the sexiest noise my ears have been graced with and slips her right hand down the plane of her stomach, those short black nails like beacons for my eyes to follow their progress.
They don’t stop at the top of her underwear, but slide over the top of it, over her mound, the outline of her lips, before spreading them to brush her clit in a tease that brings a groan to her lips, and also to mine.
“You gonna let me see what you’re doin’ to that beautiful pussy? Or am I going to have to keep imagining how perfect it looks underneath there?”
Her eyelids drop lower, watching me from beneath them when she speaks. “You’re awful impatient for someone who’s spent the last several weeks teasing me and dragging out every single taste I’ve been given.” Her voice is thick with desire, lower pitched than usual, with a husk to it that hardens my cock all over again.
From how turned on she is—all the signs are there, pink cheeks, puffy lips, stiff nipples, blown out pupils, I bet she’s perfectly soaked between her thighs from that heady scent I’m getting—I wouldn’t be surprised if she came quick.
I can say I sure as fuck plan to make the first one fast tomorrow, get it out of the way so the real fun can begin. Where we take our time, me exploring, her lavishing in that state of bliss that has her floating between planes, not sure what’s real and what’s a dream anymore. On the brink of insanity from the pleasure that won’t quit, pushing her farther than she thought she could go. I’ve had weeks to study, to prep for this, and I’m more than ready.
But something tells me she won’t want to make tonight too easy on me. She needs this escape. Needs the distraction a partner for one night can provide. The temporary reality that can be woven between two people getting lost in one another’s physical selves.
Hell, even I could use a night of forgetting the insecurities that haunt me doggedly in my waking hours. How I’ll never be enough, the fact that I’m a disappointment to everyone in my life. Shit, this reprieve is good for both of us. Remind us that there are others out there who see worth, who see value in us as we are.
And this girl has a lot of value to me.
I might not know why she’s on the run, why she thinks she wouldn’t be able to form connections, grow roots, stay in one place and bloom, but I see how special she is.
She says I’m the one who brightens everything around me, but I see something kindred in her.
So distanced from everyone else, for whatever reasons of her own, I recognize the lonely soul inside. And I hope, if just for a couple of nights, I can make her feel seen, felt, and appreciated. That’s a gift I can leave her with, something she can take with her when she’s off to wherever is next.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s a seed I can plant that’ll take root in her and, over time, convince her she’s worth everything she wants and more. That there’s someone out there she can let in and share all of herself with. The way I wish for too.
So I’m not exaggerating when I say she has me wrapped around her finger. The finger I’m watching drag over her pussy so softly, so slowly, it’s like she’s trying to be my undoing.
My breaths come out ragged, heavier than they should for someone who’s just kneeling, watching. Her chest rises and falls in time with mine, that gorgeous face of hers drawn tight, focusing on the pleasure she’s bringing herself, and I take it in. The sight of her, soaking with her need, wet with my cum, writhing on her back, fingers on herself, right where I wish my mouth could be.
“You’re so fucking perfect, angel,” I whisper roughly.
Her eyes squeeze tight at that, face looking pained for a second, before she opens them again.
“Don’t say that.”
“Sorry, but I’m not a liar,” I tell her, eyes focused between her thighs, where her fingers are starting to slip beneath the edge of fabric keeping this final mystery from me.
One delicate finger slides beneath the material and pulls it to the side, finally allowing me to see what’s overtaken my fantasies, my waking dreams.
Soft. Pink. Glistening. Worthy of a thousand more dreams and then some.
“Perfect,” I growl.
She moans, releasing the fabric, letting it stay to one side of her pussy, leaving it on display for me.
“I knew the rest of you would be just as gorgeous, but this?” I blow out a shaky breath, and I know she can hear what I can’t find the words for. I settle for, “Fuck, darlin’.”
Unable to help myself, I dive down between her legs and press my face as close as I can without touching her skin, following the rules we set for tonight. Inhaling deeply, I let her scent fill my nostrils, mouth watering at the musky, feminine scent that I can taste from here. Hands quivering with the need to feel her for myself, I pop back up to my knees before I break my word.
I need to know what it feels like to be wrapped in her warmth, how tight she is, how hot and wet. What she tastes like when she comes. From my current vantage point, I can finally visualize what it would look like to sink two fingers into her, the sight of her stretching around me as I prep her to take more.
My cock stands at attention, ready for duty, but this isn’t about him right now.
“Let me see,” I tell her softly.
“You wanna see what you do to me?” she asks, an offer to flip the table.
“God, yes.”
Amelia takes her two middle fingers and runs them from the top of her slit, down over her clit, and through all the wetness waiting for her there as she nears her center. I watch as her fingers part the folds, working their way right down her middle, and dip into that honeypot that’s waiting there.
It’s all I can do to stay put as her fingers disappear, knuckle by knuckle, and I watch her body twitch and buck under the intrusion. She pulls out until her hand is free again, and she holds it up for my inspection.
Soaked, damn near dripping in all that nectar. Saliva pools in my mouth, wishing I could take her fingers into my mouth and test it for myself, get a mouthful of her taste, but I stay still.
“I’ve had to fuck my toy so many times since that first night I’m surprised it hasn’t died yet,” she admits, watching my gaze darken on hers.
That fucking toy. I’ve never been so jealous of silicone in my life. Getting to do the job I wish I could’ve every night. Several times a night, I’d bet.
I know exactly which one she means too. May have spent an insane number of hours scouring through websites until I found the exact one so I could order it for myself and see exactly what she likes. All part of my prep for tomorrow.
“There’s no toy here tonight, Amelia. You’re gonna have to show me how gorgeous you are when you come with just your fingers.”
She nods, her head moving in place against the comforter that will never look the same after tonight.
Her hand, those soaking wet fingers, drop down to her pussy once more and she uses the pads of her two middle fingers to start to rub her clit. The impulse I have to drop down with her, to lean in and lick her fingers clean, suck that swollen clit like her favorite toy does until she’s drenching my face instead of my bedspread, it’s tough to master control over my base desires right now, but I should get points for effort here.
It’s as I’m watching her tease both of us with those slow movements, those dragging touches that pull at her puffy skin and make my cock twitch with need that I realize the rules of the game.
We promised not to touch anything we weren’t supposed to.
I grasped the metal through her nipple, not her breasts themselves, however much I was dying to.
I might not be able to shove my fingers inside of her tight heat, but her hand is fair fucking game for me to touch freely.
That’s a part of her I’ve felt before and have no qualms about touching right now.
“Keep showing me what you like to do to yourself, angel,” I coax her, bringing one hand down to cover hers.
She gasps, sucking in a sharp breath at the contact of my skin on hers as she brings herself close to orgasm beneath my touch.
I let my fingers mold to hers as she presses, lightly at first, then harder, rubbing herself just how she likes it. I memorize the motion, the pressure she uses, the rhythm of it as her breath stutters, her eyelids flutter shut, and her breaths come in pants.
Her free hand grips the bedsheet and I want to see it do more. “What’s that other hand gonna do?” I ask her.
Amelia’s fiery teal gaze locks on mine, burning me from the inside out, as she releases the comforter with that hand and instead brings it up to caress her breast. She trails those fingertips over the skin, running through the glaze of cum there and dragging it with her fingers as they move over her sensitive skin.
I let out a hoarse moan, my brain struggles to take it all in, the way her body writhes on the bed, how her fingers of one hand move beneath mine, stroking and toying with her clit, while I watch her other hand pull my cum up to her nipple and start to tweak it, pulling on it hard enough that I can feel it in my own body.
It’s a visceral response, watching what she does to herself, covered in the mess I left on her. My balls tighten, precum leaks out of my tip, and I ignore it all to focus on her. How to make the most out of this night for this stunning woman who’s brought so much into my world. I want to rock hers.
I press down on the fingers beneath mine, that barrier between her pussy and my hand that’s keeping this from broaching inappropriate territory.
Okay, who am I kidding. There’s nothing appropriate about her finger fucking herself beneath my hand, but at least I can say I didn’t fuck her while she was still in town, not with my fingers or any other part of me.
Her eyes widen and her lips part when she feels me take control of the movements. Harder, then softer. Faster, then in a circle. I use her fingers like they were a toy I could get her off with, pressing in, easing up, and moving quickly, fast enough to feel like vibrations against her skin.
Those gorgeous eyes close, rolling back in her head, and I move my hand down, urging hers to come with it. She obeys, fingers trailing lower, taking my hint.
“Put them in, darlin’.”
Like the perfect woman of my dreams she continues to prove she is, she does. An A+ student, this one.
Her two fingers slide into her opening and get sucked in by the grip of her pussy. I bite down on my lip hard enough to leave marks as I feel it happen.
I start to pulse my hand on top of her fingers, pressing them in and feeling her muscles pull them further, before releasing. A growl escapes me at the sensation of it.
My other hand comes up, hooks around her thumb and pulls it up so it touches her clit.
“Keep fucking yourself,” I order her.
The first hand stays on her fingers, feeling her pump in and out, searching for that spot on her front wall that I wish I could touch for myself, while my other hand bounces on her thumb in the rhythm that had her so close to the edge before.
“Oh God.” She moans the words with a vibrato to her voice that’s not normally there. Amelia throws her head back, neck pulled tight, shoulders back as she allows herself to fall into the pleasure we’re giving her together.
The plunge of her fingers, the pulse of attention to her clit. It builds into a crescendo and I watch it happen in real time. The way her other hand keeps plucking at her nipple, smearing my slick cum over it as she pinches and pulls, the way I’d be doing if I was allowed to right now. How her whole body tenses, and I see her start to shake beneath me.
“Oh God,” she says again, but the words are louder. A cry of warning. A plea for help, how to deal with the onslaught that’s building in her system, but one isn’t coming. I’m going to throw her so far over the edge she won’t find the bottom for ages, free falling until she crashes.
My left hand presses her fingers in deeper, harder, slick with her wetness, taking over the rhythm there as my other hand works her clit in ways that will force her over the precipice. Leave her floating for endless seconds of torturous bliss, in a preview of what tomorrow night will look like.
“Weston,” she cries out my name, eyes screwed shut as I continue controlling her fingers and her thumb, making her make herself come for me.
Gruff, throat tight, I say, “Let me watch you, darlin’. It’s my turn now.”
My eyes laser focus on her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, then realign on the beautiful mess between her thighs, both of my hands and one of hers there, slipping and sliding over the surface of her skin, demanding she give in to what’s between us.
I’m sure she’d love to be kicking her legs, strangling me with them, wrapping them around me as she convulses and shakes, but she’s laying on them. They’re trapped, tucked beneath her, and there’s nothing she can do other than take exactly what my hands are giving her.
She thrashes, head tossing from side to side as she lets out a little scream that I’ll be replaying for a long time to come, as her orgasm hits her full force. Her pussy must be clenching down on those fingers so damn hard, and I watch the show, softening my ministrations on her clit but not stopping. Her gasps tell the story and I ride out the rhythm of her orgasm, pressing and controlling her fingers to milk every possible moment of this release for her.
I imagine what her fingers get to feel right now, those hot, wet walls clamping down, keeping them in place while her muscles clench in a sensual cadence, fluttering against her own skin.
If only my fingers could be so lucky.
Her eyes blink back open, disbelief all over her face as she pulls her left hand back and withdraws her right from beneath my touch as well.
“Like I said,” I growl, “absolutely fucking perfect .”
One foot touching the floor, I step back from the bed, allowing her to unfold and untangle herself at her own pace.
Her cheeks are heated, the flush running down her chest in splotches that show me how thorough of a job we did wrecking her without even letting me touch her properly tonight.
She lets out something like a whimper as she rights herself, legs coming back out slowly, probably numb and tingly after what we just put them through.
“Hang tight for a sec,” I tell her, finger in the air. “I’m gonna grab something to clean up with.”
Finger in front of my face, I notice it’s still slick with what made it from her hand to mine, and I take my chance.
Eyes on hers, I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick, not wasting a drop of her juices.
Subtle but musky, there’s something in her taste, in her scent, that calls to me. Like I could lick at her all night and never have enough. It pulls a groan from somewhere deep in my throat.
“I hope you’re ready for tomorrow,” I tell her, voice husky with lust. “Once I start feasting on you, I might never stop.”
“Is that a promise, Boy Scout?” she asks, lips drawing up in a teasing smirk, even as she’s all soft and mussed after her orgasm.
“No, darlin’. That’s a warning,” I tell her with a wicked grin.
I’m back in moments with a large towel, wet and warm, boxer briefs back on to try to contain my perma-boner (patent pending, thanks to having seen Amelia naked and coming in my bed, under my hands), and I climb back onto the mattress to clean her up.
One last look at my handiwork before I do has me smiling wistfully.
“My new favorite piece of art,” I drawl. “You’re fucking priceless, darlin’. This is going to be on display in my mental art gallery forever.”
She smiles, shaking her head in some kind of wonder, and lays there as I wipe up her chest and body. It takes most of the towel to do the job, with how hard she made me come and what a mess we made after that, but eventually I get her cleaned up.
I pull the covers up and over her tiny body and bend down to give her a kiss on the forehead.
“Are you tucking me in?” she asks, surprised.
I give her a wink in the dimming moonlight and say, “I’m making sure you sleep tight, because tomorrow you’re not getting any rest.”