51. Dov
DOV
No matter how good it feels to be this close to her, to be actually speaking with her, and for her to have her eyes open when my fingers are pressed to her skin, I’m still filled with the worry that I’ll lose control.
I did the night that boy she brought here died. I’m still beating myself up for not reaching her quickly enough. By the time I’d understood what was happening, it had been too late. He’d already tried to force himself on her.
But she’d dealt with him, and then I’d finished what she’d started.
“I’m real,” I tell her, as though I’m trying to convince us both.
My hand is covering hers, and I expect her to try to pull it away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes my hand and brings it to her face.
I run my fingers down the perfect porcelain skin of her cheek, brushing them over the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Do they go darker over the summer? I wonder if I’ll ever find out.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
I’ve touched her this way before, but never when she’s been aware.
A part of me always knew it was wrong, but it was the only way I could get near her.
Watching her from afar, or even over the monitors in my room, hadn’t been enough.
I’d needed to get closer, to inhale the scent of her skin and feel her warmth.
She reminds me that I am real. That I’m still a part of this world, even though there are times when I feel I’m not.
It’s easy to lose your sense of self at Windridge Hall.
Sometimes I believe the building itself wants me.
I know it’s happened before, when the hotel has wanted to keep the living so badly that it won’t let them leave.
“I’ve known when you were in my room before,” she says. “I know how you’ve touched me when you thought I was asleep.”
“You were asleep,” I confirm.
I’d made sure of it.
She gives a tiny shrug. “Maybe someplace between wake and sleep. Not conscious enough to react, but conscious enough to feel you. I liked feeling you.”
My cock tingles and lengthens at her words. I know it’s too much to ask to be inside her—I wouldn’t do that to her, especially not while she’s awake. The thought of what I might do when I climax and lose control is too much. I know I wouldn’t be in my right mind.
Making her climax though, is a whole different beast.
Tension crackles in the air between us. I can’t help but notice the way her nipples crinkle beneath her thin camisole. She’s not wearing a bra. Has she done that deliberately, knowing I was coming?
She catches my glance dropping to her breast, and her pretty lips part, revealing small white teeth and the pink of her tongue. I long for her so badly; I want to groan, but, as always, I hold myself back.
She doesn’t, though. She takes my hand and moves it down, so it covers her breast. The hardness of her nipple presses against my palm. My cock jumps in response.
“It’s okay,” she encourages me. “I like you touching me.”
I brush my thumb over the material, feeling her nipple pebble further, and then she pulls the camisole down to expose her skin.
I think I might lose my mind. My cock throbs, and I wonder if I’ll come in my pants, just from touching her.
It’s more than possible, but again, I pull back, frightened of any moment where I lose control.
That rush of climax, the brief moment of nothing but pleasure, where hands can wrap around a throat without even being aware of it, and squeeze…
My heart knocks against my ribs, and I try to pull away, but she shakes her head. “No, Dov. Please don’t. I know you’ve done this before. It will be okay.”
Instead of letting me remove my hand, she slides it down, over her stomach. She reclines in bed, wriggling down a little on the mattress, and then pushes my hand beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms.
Fuck, I think I might lose it. I should leave, but I’m mesmerized by her. She’s trapped me in her spell.
My hand trembles beneath her touch as she guides me into the heat of her panties. I do groan now, hanging my head to try not to lose it. Fuck, she feels so hot and slick, all puffy and wet and ready to be penetrated.
“I want you to touch me, Dov. Please.”
How can she want me when she already has my father and brother?
I don’t fully understand. I’ve watched her with both of them, the way they’ve pleasured her.
I’ve gripped my cock in my hand and made myself come while my gaze is glued to her beautiful face and the expressions she makes when she climaxes.
Now I’m able to experience it for real—not just through a screen or from a distance. I can hardly believe it.
“I shouldn’t…” I try to say, but she shakes her head and shushes me.
“Feel how much I want this.”
I slide a finger deep inside her, feel her inner muscles clamp down around my digit. My hands are big, and I wonder if she can take a second finger. I decide to try, stretching her, and the little gasps and whimpers she makes is enough to tell me she likes it.
I watch her face as I finger her slowly, eking out every moment. Her eyes have slipped shut and her lips are parted. Her hips move against my hand, as though she’s fucking me in return. I press my thumb to her clit, and she cries out.
“Oh, yes, Dov. Just like that.”
I love hearing my name on her lips. When was the last time I heard someone use my name?
Encouraged, I do it again, rolling tiny circles across the swollen nub.
Her breathing grows faster and her body is a writhing snake of unreleased tension.
My cock is harder than I’ve ever known, and I fight my own pleasure.
I can’t let myself come. It’s too dangerous with her so vulnerable like this.
I crook my fingers, stroking her inner walls, keeping up my momentum so I don’t break this spell.
“Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck,” she cries.
She grips my wrist tight, grinding down on my fingers. Her back arches off the bed, her gorgeous tits thrusting into the air. She’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen—sheer perfection.
Her pussy pulses around my fingers, wetness gushing around them.
She slumps down onto the bed, breathing hard. Her eyes are still shut, her red hair splayed across the pillow.
Gently, I slide my fingers from her pussy, and, just like I have so many nights before, I slip silently from her room.