24. Chapter Twenty-Four - Fragile Breath #2
When his hands finally slid upward and cupped both of my breasts, it happened so smoothly I barely had time to react before his palms pressed in, lifting the soft flesh with a reverence that made my nipples tighten painfully beneath my shirt.
His fingers kneaded gently, then more firmly, thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks straining against the damp cotton, dragging tight spirals of pleasure down my spine.
My back arched, my breath catching in a small, humiliating gasp that escaped before I could swallow it down.
The fact that I wasn't wearing a bra made the thin shirt feel like nothing at all. Every brush of his thumbs and squeeze of his fingers hit me hard through the fabric.
Culver’s cock slid along the crack of my ass, courtesy of the hot pants, making me wiggle in his hold at the feeling.
“He didn’t touch my tits like that,” I whispered, a breathy moan slipping out, the confession tumbling in a broken rasp. “You friggin’ perverted wolf.”
His breath hitched, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he spoke.
“I know,” he whispered, amusement threading through his voice. “I intend to be… exceptionally thorough.”
His thumbs rolled over my nipples again, circling the sensitive peaks in slow, deliberate strokes.
My back arched harder, a soft moan catching in my throat.
Sweat slicked the cotton of my shirt and clung to me, making every pass of his fingers feel more intimate, more indecent, like my body was made for his hands alone.
My thighs pressed together instinctively, chasing friction, chasing relief.
My palms pushed against his stomach from behind as if I meant to create distance, but my fingers curled into the fabric instead while I leaned into him.
“Culver…” I breathed, my voice wrecked and needy, shame and want bleeding together as my nipples strained against his thumbs.
He squeezed once more before releasing me, letting my breasts fall back against my shirt, my nipples aching and peaked.
Cold air hit the damp fabric and made me shiver, a subtle tremor running down my spine.
My hips rolled forward against his cock, searching for pressure, my pussy clenching around emptiness hard enough to hurt.
“He barely touched my nipples,” I admitted under my breath, the confession small and too honest, like admitting it granted Culver permission to keep going, to claim what Carter had never reached for.
“I apologize,” he murmured, his tone quiet but threaded with dark satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “They were so tempting that I lost all resistance.”
His hand slid back down my torso, slowing at my waist as if savoring the lines of my body, his thumb dipping low toward the heat radiating beneath my shorts.
The praise flooded me with warmth and irritation all at once, my cheeks hot as I looked away.
I felt flattered and frustrated at the same time because part of me wanted to believe him, while another part braced for the letdown.
“They’re tiny,” I muttered, my voice catching. “Flattery about my tits gets you nowhere.”
“Flattery?” he echoed, sounding genuinely offended enough to make the heat coil tighter in my belly.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the tender skin below my ear, teeth grazing just enough to make my breath stutter. “Ira, you are perfect. Every aspect of you.”
It was too much, too dangerous. It hit me square in the chest and made my heart stumble, no matter how hard I tried to brush it off with a weak laugh. “Are you almost done?”
“Just a bit longer,” he muttered, breath strained and low against my neck, the desperation in it making my nipples throb all over again. “He touched here, too.”
His hands delved lower, naturally cupping my ass. His fingernails squeezed into the flesh, and I arched my back slowly, tilting my hips so my ass dragged across his erection. The friction made him groan—deep, guttural, and feral, like the noise clawed its way out of his lungs.
“Ira…” he breathed, my name sounding half warning, half prayer.
Culver’s hands spread my ass open, fingers sinking into the flesh like he could mold me into the shape he wanted. He tugged gently, spreading me wider, and even through the thin barrier of my shorts, I felt air brush against the damp fabric stretched over my folds and hole.
A hot wave of humiliation and desire flooded my chest, my thighs trembling.
“Almost finished,” he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed the lie.
His hands dragged lower, tracing the bruises Carter had left as if he could undo them through touch alone. When his fingers pushed between my thighs and brushed the soaked seam of my shorts—directly over my swollen clit—my hips jerked back against him in a helpless grind.
“S-shit,” I whispered, the word breaking on a moan I didn’t mean to let out.
Slick warmth coated the seam, fabric clinging wetly to my folds as my pussy tightened around the absence of him.
He groaned again as I rocked back, his hips meeting mine halfway, the hard outline of his cock pushing insistently against my entrance through the clothes between us like a promise of how easily he could bury himself inside me.
I was right on the edge, about to shatter and plead for him to just take me already, frustration boiling over into a raw urge to spill everything I couldn’t hold back anymore.
But before we could take it any further, he pulled back and wrapped his arms around me instead.
He held me close, his cock still jerking against me, but instead of continuing, he inhaled the scent of me while his arms tightened around me from behind. It felt more romantic than sexual.
“Thank you for indulging me,” he whispered finally in my ear, voice low and sincere, as if I’d given him something priceless instead of nearly letting him fuck me on the couch.
“When Anna returns,” he continued, not giving me a chance to reply, softer now, “she wants to see you about the wedding.”
Finally, he shifted me so we could face each other again.
I was still on his lap, but now I rested on one of his thighs while his eyes held mine.
My gaze wandered without shame, sliding right to where his hand shifted against his pants.
The heavy bulge of his cock stood out clearly against the dark material, the tip straining upward like it was fighting for relief.
Warmth settled low in my back as I wet my lips instinctively, picturing myself dropping between his legs and wrapping my mouth around him until he couldn’t hold back the deep, broken sound I knew would come.
He groaned the moment my tongue touched my lip. It was a low, rough sound that vibrated straight through my bones. “Try not to rile me any more than you already have, my little lamb.”
“What?” I asked, tilting my head and blinking at him like I wasn’t doing it on purpose.
He exhaled sharply, his chest trembling once. “Actually, continue.”
I snorted, crossing my arms even as my nipples remained hard and visible through my shirt. “Pervert.”
“Call me what you will,” he murmured, eyes dragging over my body like his hands had moments before. “This carnal desire I have for you cannot be replaced.”
“Oh yeah?” I lifted a brow. “Then maybe jerk it outta your system.”
I made a lazy jerk-off gesture, fingers curling in the air as if stroking the thick shape of him.
He looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. “Do you truly think a bit of masturbation would change how I feel about you?”
I shrugged, ignoring the pulse between my legs. “Hey, clarity is a thing. Guys swear by it.”
“You shock me every time you speak,” he muttered.
Then the wicked smirk curved his mouth. “Shall I give it a good tug for you, little lamb?”
His hand moved to the button of his pants.
“No!”
The word shot out, and I lunged forward to grab his wrist…
except my aim was terrible, or fate was rude, because instead of catching his wrist, my hand landed directly on the thick outline of his cock.
My fingers reflexively closed around it.
The shape felt solid beneath the fabric, veins pressing against my palm as his breath hitched sharply.
“Mngh…” Culver’s jaw locked as his head tipped back slightly.
“I was merely teasing you,” he ground out through clenched teeth, but he didn’t pull away.
His hand covered mine, guiding it slowly along the length of him, applying pressure as he groaned, rolling his hips upward into my hand.
“Utterly—” The moment snapped without warning.
His free hand shot into my ponytail, gripping the base and yanking hard enough to sting my scalp. I gasped, the sound high and thin, halfway between a moan and a cry. His other hand wrapped around my throat, fingers pressing into the delicate skin with sudden, unyielding force.
The air thinned instantly.
My hands flew to his wrist, nails scraping helplessly as my lungs clawed for breath.
His eyes were wild and feral, fixed on my pulse hammering beneath his fingers as if mesmerized.
My thighs squeezed together. My pussy clenched in a frantic spasm as the world tunneled into the sensation of his control.
Fuck. I enjoyed being choked. Especially on Culver’s lap.
Finally, he released me, his eyes narrowing with a smirk playing on his lips. “You are lucky I can control my strength, my sweet lamb.”
I couldn’t think about his words, only that I was catching my breath while feeling slickness dripping down my thighs.
His hand slid back up and slowly stroked my bruising neck. “I was not planning on leaving a mark on you today,” he hummed. “But I find it endearing to see you carry a touch of me.”
My body responded with a shiver that rippled through my skin like electricity, cool air kissing my exposed flesh. Temptation fluttered in my eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire.
“I think I feel his touch here still,” I lied through my teeth, my voice husky and breathy.