Chapter 18 #6
"Not here," I say roughly, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.
"Not like this." It’s a last desperate attempt to stop this from happening, to get her to leave so I can finish myself off and hopefully go back to what I should be doing, because I can’t seem to force myself to make her leave on my own.
But instead of stepping away, instead of letting me restore the distance between us, she surprises me by reaching between us, her fingers gliding against the side of my cock.
It’s so close to my fantasy that it’s dizzying. "Leila," I warn, catching her hands.
"You said no sex," she murmurs, looking up at me with eyes that have gone dark with arousal. "You didn't say no touching.”
Christ. The distinction she's making is both technically accurate and completely beside the point.
Touching her, letting her touch me, is going to be just as dangerous to my peace of mind as actually being inside her again.
She needs to go. But I can still feel the brush of her hand against my cock, and I want more.
She tugs her hands free of mine, her hand wrapping around my length between us. "Show me," she whispers. "Show me how to make you feel good."
Fuck. I feel like I can’t breathe. I groan as her hand loosely encircles my cock, fingers exploring, all the way up to the swollen head.
She drags her thumb through the sticky pre-cum there, and I hiss through my teeth, my eyes widening as I feel my balls tighten.
I’m not going to last. Christ, I’m going to come from a fucking handjob. When was the last time that happened?
I turn us both again, my arm going around her hips as I back her against the sink counter. I fumble her jeans open, pushing them down her hips as I lift her and set her on the edge of the counter, my hand sliding between her thighs as she gasps and grabs onto my shoulder with her free hand.
“Slow,” I groan as I slip my fingers under the edge of her panties. Christ, she’s already wet for me. “Slow and firm. Fuck, like that… yes. Christ, you’re a quick learner, Leila.”
I can practically feel her glow from the praise, and I hear a soft moan slip from her mouth as she slides her hand up and over the length of my cock again. Her palm rubs over the head, her fingers searching out and teasing the underneath, and I feel a dangerous jolt of pleasure ripple through me.
“Fuck, that’s good,” I breathe as I slide two fingers through her folds, all the way up to her clit.
I feel her fingers curl against my shoulder, her nails sinking against the fabric of my sweater as I start to stroke her clit, timing my rhythm with her strokes along my cock.
Leila’s lips part, her breath coming faster, and I know I can make her come like this.
She’s new to all of this. Every touch, every sensation, it’s all new. I can see the wonder of it in her eyes, hear it in her sharply indrawn breaths, as she learns what it’s like to have someone touch her like this, play her body like a finely tuned instrument.
That thought, the reminder that I’m her first, the first one to ever touch her like this, has me so close to the edge that it’s an effort to hang on to my orgasm.
I grit my teeth, stroking her clit firmly as I feel her muscles tense, her hand on my cock bringing me closer to the brink with every passing second.
Her fingers brush my base, her rhythm changing to short, quick strokes, and my head falls back as I flatten my hand against her abdomen and press my thumb to her clit, rubbing back and forth as I bring my other hand up and slide two fingers into her. “That’s so fucking good, Leila, fuck—”
“I—” She gasps as I thrust my fingers in and out. “I’m going to—oh god, Ronan—”
I feel the moment she starts to come. Her body tightens around my hand, her clit pulsing as she arches up and bites her lip to keep from crying out, her hand stuttering on my cock.
The break in her rhythm is the only thing that keeps me from coming all over us both, as I fight to hold back just long enough to stay with her through her climax.
The moment I feel her start to relax, I grab the nearest hand towel, shoving it between us as her hand moves over my length, and I start to come.
My cock throbs painfully, and I grit my teeth against a groan as I spurt over the luxury fabric, soaking it with my cum as Leila strokes me to a hard, messy orgasm.
“Fuck,” she breathes as she stares down between us, her hand still wrapped around my cock as cum drips from the head onto the hand towel. “That was—”
“Something we can’t do again,” I tell her firmly as I step to one side, turning on a faucet to clean up. Leila slides down from the counter, tugging up her jeans and washing her hands, and neither of us looks at each other as I open the door for her to step out.
I’m sure at least one of the flight attendants is aware of what went on in there, but neither of them would dare say a word. We go back to our seats, and Leila pauses.
“I think I’m going to go lie down,” she says finally. “Good night, Ronan.”
I draw in a breath, meeting her eyes. I can’t read her expression, what she’s thinking, and I finally just nod. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”
“I’m sure I can find it.”
“Alright then.” I pause, wanting to say something more, but unsure of what that might be. “Good night, then.”