4. Maxwell #3
Millie's pulse jumps visibly at her throat. "Now?"
"Now. Go put on the black lace set."
She takes the shopping bag, disappears into my bedroom. I wait, anticipation coiling tight.
When she returns, every thought in my head narrows to her.
The black lace is delicate, expensive, and completely inadequate at hiding anything. The bra barely covers her nipples, the panties are sheer enough to show the outline of her pussy.
She looks expensive. Sophisticated. Sexy.
Mine.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Come here."
She walks to me, and I remain seated, tracking every movement. When she's in front of me, I reach out, run my hands up her thighs. Her skin is soft, warm under my palms.
"This is what I wanted," I murmur. "You, looking like the goddess you are, in lingerie I bought you."
My fingers trace the edge of the lace panties. The fabric is so delicate it feels like it might tear. "These cost $600. Worth every penny."
She shivers under my touch.
"Sit on the coffee table. Facing me."
She complies, the glass surface cool under her. I lean back on the sofa, eyes never leaving her.
"Spread your legs."
Heat floods her face, but she parts her thighs slowly. The lace panties do nothing to hide her—I can see her pussy through the delicate fabric, already glistening with arousal.
My hand moves to my belt, unbuckles it slowly while maintaining eye contact.
"I want to watch you," I say, unzipping my trousers. "And I want you to watch me."
I pull out my cock—already hard and thick from the sight of her in that lingerie.
Millie's breath catches audibly.
I stroke myself slowly, let her see exactly what she does to me. "Touch yourself. Over the panties first."
Her hand trembles as she moves it between her legs. She presses her fingers against her pussy through the lace, and I watch her face transform with pleasure.
"That's it," I encourage, my hand moving steadily on my cock. "Rub your clit through that expensive lace."
She circles her clit through the fabric, small gasps escaping her lips.
"Ahh—" The sound is soft, breathy.
"Pull the panties aside. I want to see your pussy."
She hooks her finger in the lace, pulls it to the side. Her pussy is exposed—wet, pink, swollen with arousal.
"Beautiful," I groan, stroking my cock faster. "So fucking wet already."
"This is... we're just watching each other?"
"For now. Push two fingers inside your pussy."
She obeys, sliding two fingers into her wet heat.
"Oh—" she moans at the penetration.
"Fuck yourself with them. Show me how you'd touch yourself thinking about me."
Millie pumps her fingers in and out, her hips rocking to meet each thrust. Her eyes are locked on my hand moving on my cock, and the visual is clearly affecting her.
"You like watching your stepbrother stroke his cock?" I ask, voice rough with arousal.
"Yes," she admits breathlessly.
"Say it. Tell me what you like watching."
Her face burns, but arousal wins over embarrassment. "I like watching you stroke your cock. I like seeing how hard you are for me."
"Fuck," I groan, pleasure spiking. "Use your other hand. Rub your clit while you finger yourself."
She complies, and the dual stimulation makes her cry out.
"Ahh—ahh—" Her hips rock faster, chasing her orgasm.
"I'm going to come watching you fuck yourself. Are you close?"
"Yes—yes—" she gasps, fingers working frantically.
"Come for me. Let me see that pussy clench."
The command pushes her over. Her pussy spasms around her fingers, her whole body shaking with the force of her orgasm.
"Oh god—Maxwell—" she cries.
The sight of her coming—head thrown back, pussy clenching, my name on her lips—triggers my own release.
"Fuck—Millie—" I groan as cum spurts from my cock onto my hand and stomach.
We both ride out our orgasms, eyes locked on each other, the connection between us almost tangible.
When the intensity fades, we're both breathing hard.
I stand, cross to her, pull her up from the coffee table. I kiss her deeply, tasting the wine still on her lips.
"That was incredibly hot," I murmur against her mouth.
"I've never done anything like that before."
"You've never done anything before me. I'm your first everything. And I'm going to teach you so much more."
I lead her to the bedroom, pull her down onto the sheets. "Stay tonight. Tomorrow, I want you to wear one of your new outfits to class."
"People will notice. They'll ask where I got such expensive clothes."
"Let them. Let them see that you're with someone who takes care of you."
I pull her against me, her back to my chest, my arm possessive around her waist.
Millie's quiet for a long moment. I can feel her thinking, processing everything that happened today.
The shopping. The money. The loans paid off.
Finally, she whispers, "Why do you do this? Why do you want to give me so much?"
"Because you're mine. And what's mine gets everything."
She's silent, but I feel her relax incrementally against me.
Despite her protests, some part of her is starting to like it. Starting to accept what being with me means.
And I'm going to make sure she never wants anything less.