Page 58 of Demitri

“Yes.”

Demitri wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him, his cock between us straining for attention.

“Ignore him for now,” he whispers into my neck. I think it’s his new favorite place to touch.

“What if I don’t want to?” I challenge.

“Patience. Did I not teach you anything earlier?”

“Nope. You did not.”

He laughs, his body shaking against mine and doing weird things to me.

“Come on,Krasotka, let’s take a shower.”

He walks me into the walk-in shower, testing the water on himself before moving me under the spray. Seriously, did he read a book on how to be a gentleman?

“I thought we were going to do something different than shower,” I muse just loud enough for him to hear.

“Tons of fun can be had in a shower, Mia. Soap makes a great lube.” He smirks.

“Is that so?”

“Very much so. I have a question for you before I decide how this is going to go.”

“What’s that?”

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

His blunt question throws me off. Not that I think anything is off limits between us anymore, but because I don’t know how to answer and not sound pathetic.

“Has it been that long?”

I nod, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm.” He rubs his chin and assesses me, but not in a bad way. “That creates all kinds of opportunities.”

I watch as he reaches around me to grab the body wash off the ledge, my knees going weak when he pauses to inhale the vanilla scent with a smile on his face. Pouring the soap into my upturned palm before returning it to its home, he then starts rubbing it all over my hand, coating my fingers. It’s almost too intimate, but I want to see where this goes.

Demitri turns me around so my back is against his front, his cock seeming to throb against my ass.

“Touch yourself,” he quietly commands.

“I don’t know if I can,” I admit.

“Let me help.”

Placing his hand over mine, spreading the soap along his fingers as well and intertwining our fingers, our hands move together up to my neck, caressing it, before sliding them to my breasts. He circles my palm over one nipple and then the other, making the little nubs harden like diamonds and giving me a zing right to my core. Back and forth he moves our joined hands, working me up just enough to frustrate me when he moves us away. Also, coming from nipple play shouldn’t be the regular, right? But here I am, getting completely worked up and frustrated because he won’t let me have what I want.

When he moves our hands down my stomach, my breath hitches. I haven’t touched myself in years. My no-touching rule was for everyone, no exceptions. Our hands glide over my mound and finally between my legs. His free arm wraps around me, knowing if this keeps going, I’ll need help standing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes locked on our joined hands.

“I’m going to show you how to make yourself feel good. How could you ever tell me what you like if you don’t know?”

With pressure on my finger, he helps me circle my clit, adding pressure with each pass. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching what’s happening to me without understanding that I’m the one making the zings and shudders happen.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Just like that.”

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