Chapter 12 – Genevieve #2
A moan slips out, and my eyes close. My hand on my breast tightens, and I shift back, wanting more contact, wanting something inside of me while I do this.
Wanting more of everything as I always do.
I make myself orgasm, and it feels good, but it’s never complete.
There’s always that residual ache that’s desperate and never quite sated.
A noise at the end of the bed stirs me, and I open my eyes straight onto him.
“Christ, I can smell how turned on you are. Hear how wet. You look so beautiful like this.”
For some reason, that gives me pause. Not sexy or hot or erotic or any of the other things I’ve read in my books.
But beautiful. It hits differently. It warms me and fills me in a way my fingers can’t.
I don’t know if it’s lust or desire talking, but I want him to touch me.
I want him to add to this clawing sensation and make it explode from within me.
“I like your eyes on me. Keep them there while you fuck yourself.”
“Like this?” I’m breathless as I rub faster, and my legs fall open wider. I add a second finger, pressing them together as I rub my clit harder. Faster. But I keep my eyes on him. Not because he told me to—well, maybe that’s part of it—but because I want to see his reaction to me.
One hand is at his side, gripping his thigh.
His other is hovering just above the hem of his briefs as if he’s desperate to touch his cock.
As it is, there’s a small wet spot beneath the head, and I lick my lips.
I want to know what he tastes like. Feels like.
There are so many things I want to experience, and I don’t like wondering if I ever will.
“What are you thinking about, princess?”
God, I typically hate it when he calls me that, but the way he said it as a raspy purr just hit me right in my clit and hard nipples. How can him saying something make me react this way?
I arch my back and grind deeper into my hand. I’m getting close, my clit already pulsing against my fingers, and soon I won’t be able to stop it, but I could live forever with the way he’s looking at me. Hungry and anxious and wrought with torturous turmoil.
“I’m wondering if I’d be able to take your fingers,” I tell him, pushing two of mine back into me and thrusting up so I can reach that space inside me.
“If they’d feel better, fuller than mine.
” I use the butt of my palm to rub my clit up and down while I finger fuck myself, and holy hell, that feels so good.
I’m warm and wet and tight and “Oh god, yes.” My eyes momentarily close, and I moan before my teeth sink into my lip.
“That’s it. Keep thinking about my fingers inside you. You could definitely take them,” he assures me. “You’d take all of me. I’d just have to do it right. Inch by inch. You’d be such a good girl for me, wouldn’t you?”
I shake my head, even as it’s getting harder to breathe.
“No? You’re not my good girl?”
“I’m tired of always being the good girl.”
“You want to be my sweet little whore then? Isn’t that what you said?”
Fuck. That’s so dirty and depraved, but yes, I think I want that. I can hardly think past it. Especially with the idea of him feeding me his cock and giving it to me right. “We’re not doing that. Remember?”
“I remember, though seeing you like this, it’s nearly impossible to remember why. Are you close?”
I nod, picking up my pace, rubbing that spot on my front wall, and pressing harder in on my clit. I grind into it, rolling my hips and playing with my breasts.
“Fuck yourself for me, princess. Since I can’t touch you, can’t taste you, can’t fuck you, fuck yourself, and don’t hold back. Show me how good it feels. How you wish it were me doing that to you.”
My knees clamp together, and I ride my hand while I pinch my nipple almost to the point of pain.
I cry out as the first wave hits. It’s followed by whimpers and moans as I work myself, thrusting, rubbing, grinding, fucking.
My eyes close and my mind splinters, my orgasm bursting through me, stronger than any I’ve had before.
I know it’s because he’s watching me, and when he groans, I roll onto my side and massage myself everywhere both inside and out that I can.
“Fuck, look at you. So gorgeous.”
He’s squeezing his cock over his briefs. Not jerking it or moving his hand. Just squeezing it hard. I want to see him come too, but I don’t tell him that. This is already over the top. Part of the dangerous game I can’t stop playing with him.
I sag into the bed, my breathing heavy and my head light.
I slip my hand out of my underwear and shorts, but he catches me off guard when he says, “Put them in your mouth.”
“What?” hiccups out.
“Put them in your mouth and tell me what your cunt tastes like. What your cum tastes like.”
Jesus, hell. I can’t do that… can I?
I’m already shaking from my orgasm, but this is something else. Now that my lust is sated, some of my bravery escapes me. Still, I shift onto my back and bring my fingers to my mouth. I’ve never done this. Never been tempted even. But again, fuck it.
My tongue sticks out, and I lick at some of the whiteness that’s coating them. It doesn’t taste bad, and I slide my fingers into my mouth, sucking the rest off them.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, and without waiting for my reply, he spins around, marches into the bathroom, and slams the door.
A moment later, I hear the shower start again, only there’s no drowning out the sound of his grunting and groaning.
He’s making himself come to me. Holy wow! So that’s what it sounds like.
I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe he just did that.
I giggle lightly.
That is, until the shower shuts off and I remember I have to sleep next to him.