Page 34 of How to Date a Younger Man
“I would only be using you to relieve some stress,” she says, finishing on an exhale.
“Ask me how many fucks I give.” Zero. The answer is zero.
“Griffin.” She says my name again, but this time, there’s a slight edge to her voice. A warning.
“I’m serious. Use me. Ride off all that stress you’ve been under. Seriously, I volunteer as tribute.”
She shakes her head with a wry smile.
“I want you to use me. Any which way you want.” I want you, Layne.
“You say that now, but . . . I can’t.” And just like that, Layne lies back down, staring up at the ceiling of the tent.
I do the same, putting at least a foot of distance between us. At this point, I’m shaking with pent-up sexual need, but Layne doesn’t owe me anything, and she doesn’t have to explain herself. If she doesn’t want this—then she doesn’t, and maybe it’s finally time for me to stop pining over her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice tight.
Dammit, Griffin. You brought her here to make her feel better, not worse. This wasn’t supposed to be about sex.
On an exhale, I adjust my straining cock, tucking it beneath the waistband of my shorts and Layne doesn’t fail to notice.
“Sorry, Griff,” she murmurs, rolling onto her side to meet my eyes.
I turn to face her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She swallows, gaze moving down my torso before meeting my eyes once again. “It’s just … I couldn’t live with myself if I ever used you for sex.”
Use me, baby. Anytime you want. That’s the first thought that flashes through my brain. Thankfully something more articulate comes out of my mouth. “No one’s using anyone.” I reach out to touch her cheek, my thumb caressing her soft skin. “Let me show you how desirable you are.”
She chews on her lower lip and moves closer so slowly that I’m sure she’s about to change her mind. She’s as timid as a gazelle walking into a lion’s den. But then she gathers her breath, and with it, her courage.
Her knees part and since her t-shirt has ridden up, I can see her panties and the damp spot in the fabric we put there.
Fuck. This is torture.
I touch her knee, and when her lips part on a shaky exhale, I slid my hand up, caressing the smooth skin of her inner thigh.
I lean in to kiss her and brush my fingers over her panties, touching her clit through the cotton barrier.
Her answering moan is the best sound. Soft and lovely.
She wants this as much as I do.
“Touch your pussy for me, Layne.” I can’t risk her slamming on the breaks again. This is going to move at her pace—whatever that is.
She gives me a look of hesitation, but behind it, there’s heat too.
“Touch yourself,” I murmur again.
Layne bites her lower lip, and my body tightens everywhere. And when her hand moves lower, down her body, I watch with rapt attention.
She doesn’t pull the fabric to the side, but she slips her hand inside her panties and rubs in small circles. A needy whimper falls from her full mouth.
“That’s it,” I encourage as her hips move restlessly against her sleeping bag.
My heartrate skitters out of control like a train rumbling down the track, and I hold in a groan at the sight of her.
Watching Layne work herself toward release is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I touch her chin, tilting her mouth toward mine and the second her tongue touches mine, she starts to come—her entire body tightening and shaking as her orgasm crashes through her.
My heart riots against my ribs as hot lust pulses through me, settling low in my groin. The second Layne pulls her damp fingers from her panties, I capture her wrist, drawing them into my mouth, tasting her sweet arousal.
My cock jolts as Layne makes a small noise of surprise.
“You taste so good.” I press one last kiss to her fingers and then release her hand.
“What about you?” she breathes.
“What about me?” I’m going to die of a massive case of blue balls—no big deal.
She bites down on that full bottom lip again, conjuring up all kinds of dirty images in my head involving her mouth and my cock. “You can jerk it if you need to,” she whispers.
My heart stops beating as her gaze tracks hotly down toward my erection. Without my permission, my right hand slips down my abs and under the elastic of my shorts. I don’t draw my length out, I just curl my fist around my rigid shaft and stroke, my bicep flexing with the effort. A deep groan pours out of me.
Layne swallows heavily, her eyes glued to the spot where my hand moves in long measured strokes.
It feels so fucking good—mostly because of the heated way she’s watching me. And two minutes later, I’m coming all over my hand and stomach. Layne lifts up on her elbow, and brings her mouth to mine, kissing me deeply as the pleasure rocks through me.
