Page 14 of Lovesick

I nodded, ready to do whatever he asked me to. His hand was still under the desk, but I couldn’t see more. “Are you touching yourself too?”

His jaw twitched. “This isn’t about me, Emilia. We’ll focus on you right now.”

“But I don’t mind if you do,” I told him, furrowing my brows at him. “I want you to.”

“Emilia.” His expression darkened. “Do what I say.”

He left no room for arguments, and like I always did, I simply accepted his demand.

I got up from the couch and unzipped the side of my skirt, then let it slide down my legs until it pooled at my feet. Stepping out of it, I stood there in nothing but my black lace panties, suddenly aware of how exposed I was.

He couldn’t see my face, but he still murmured, “Beautiful.” His eyes took in every inch of my body. “Now sit back down on the couch.”

I lowered myself onto the cushions, my skin prickling with anticipation. Dean’s breathing had grown heavier, the movement of his arm beneath the desk more pronounced.

“Take those panties off and spread your legs for me,” he commanded. “I want to see how wet you are.”

With trembling fingers, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, kicking them aside. The cool air against my heated center made me shiver.

“Wider,” he urged, and I complied, opening myself completely to his view. “Touch yourself. Show me how you like to be touched when I’m not there.”

I hesitated only briefly before sliding my hand down my stomach. When my fingers found my slick folds, I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped my lips.

"That's it," Dean encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Circle your clit. Slowly."

I did as he instructed, my eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

"No," he said sharply. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you pleasure yourself."

My gaze snapped back to the screen. His hand was moving more deliberately now, his jaw tight with restraint.

"Put two fingers inside," he directed. "Imagine it's me."

I slipped my fingers into my entrance, gasping at how easily they slid in. "Dean," I whimpered, unable to hold back.

"Fuck," he groaned, no longer trying to hide what he was doing. "You're so perfect like this, Emilia. So fucking perfect."

My fingers moved faster, matching the rhythm of his arm. The knowledge that he was stroking himself while watching me pushed me closer to the edge. But I hated that I couldn’t see his cock.

“Dean,” I croaked out, sighing at the frustration that was building inside of me. “I want to see you too.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched. “You don’t get to see shit until I allow it.”

I bit my lower lip, letting his words sink in. I could’ve stopped fingering myself. Could’ve told him to go to hell and close the laptop. But I didn’t. Because sitting here, with my fingers inside of me, and him watching me, was way more exciting. It was what I wanted.

"Are you close?" he then asked, his voice strained.

"Yes," I panted, my hips rising to meet my hand. "I’m close."

"Don’t come yet," he commanded. "Slow down. I'm not ready for this to end."

I whined but complied, slowing down to a painful crawl that kept me just on the edge without going too far.

"Good girl," he praised. "Now add another finger."

I slipped a third finger inside, stretching myself further. The fullness made me gasp.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he demanded.

---