Page 30 of Embers

His gaze shoots back to my face. His shoulders stiffen visibly.

So I tell him the rest of it. “I only feel this way for you.”

The words hit him strangely. He stares at me. His breath hitches.

So I say it again. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel this way.”

“You serious?”

I sit up the way he is. “Yes, I’m serious. I don’t want a boy. I only want you.” My cheeks are so hot they feel like they’ll burn right off my face, and I can’t seem to catch a full breath. “If you didn’t want me, I’d understand.”

“Course I want you. Who wouldn’t want you? Wantin’ you’s a basic fact of life for me.”

We stare at each other for a long time, both of us panting loudly.

Then I finally ask, “If you won’t fuck me, can you at least touch me?”

“Touch you?”

“We don’t have to fuck. I understand if that’s too far for you. But can’t you at least… touch me?”

“Just touch you?”

I’m suddenly excited. It looks like his defenses might be crumbling. Step by small step might be the best way to go here. “Yes. That’s all I need.”

Something new is smoldering in his eyes now, burning like the start of a fire. He looks away for a few seconds and then returns his gaze to me. “Can’t be nothin’ but my hands.”

“That’s good with me. I don’t want to do anything you’re not okay with. I just need it so bad.”

And that’s it. He cracks. Breaks. He groans and pulls me over onto his lap. “Just hands.”

I’m not sure if he’s reminding himself or reminding me, but it doesn’t matter. Because it’s happening now. Finally.

He positions me on his lap so I’m sideways, braced by his left arm with my legs draped across his thighs. He tucks his right hand down into the waistband of my pajama pants until he can feel my pussy. “Shit, baby. You’re so far gone.”

“I know.” I writhe at the feel of his fingers against my hot, swollen flesh. “Can you touch my breasts too?”

“Course I can.”

He slides his hand out of my pants and under the hem of my shirt so he can stroke my skin. He finds and cups my breasts. Flicks my nipples with his thumb. Caresses me until I’m arching my spine and dropping my head back with shameless groans.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Shit, you feel so sweet and perfect. Look at you, baby. You feelin’ good now?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Feels so good.” I’m whimpering helplessly and trying to hide my face in his sweatshirt. I can’t possibly hold still.

After a few minutes, he slides his fingers down into my pants again. He rubs at my clit until I’m practically sobbing, and then he adjusts so he can fuck me with two of his fingers.

I’m squirming so much he’s having trouble holding me in place, but he seems to be enjoying it anyway. At least it feels that way to me. He pumps his hand hard and fast until I’m making embarrassing, rhythmic grunting sounds and moving my hips against his fingers.

“That’s right, baby,” he says low and thick. “You’re doin’ so good. You’re gonna come real hard. Let me give it to you.”

I’m totally out of control now, frantically trying to ride his fingers and clutching at his sweatshirt. “Cal. Cal. Oh God.”

“There you go, baby. Here it comes. You can let go. You’re doin’ so good.” He’s moving his hand faster and harder now. His fingers are making a sound of wet suction.

When the pleasure finally peaks, I have to smother my helpless cry in his chest. My entire body shudders through the climax, and when I think it’s over, it’s not.

Cal has slowed down his pumping, but he hasn’t stopped. And I’ve only just come down when he starts finger-fucking me again.

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