Page 77 of Needed in the Night
“So,” I said, my hands on his chest. “What did you do first when you fantasized about me? Did you take off all your clothes?”
“Yes.” He set me on my feet next to an oversized chaise lounge with two backrests clearly designed for passengers to relax on as they enjoyed the view out the window.
As I watched, he dropped his shirt to the floor. Moments later, it was joined by his boots and pants and then he was beautiful and naked, his dripping cocks curving enticingly toward his abdomen.
I licked my lips. “And then what did you do?”
“I would lie on my basking stone in my apartment,” he said, his gaze locked on mine. “But for now, this lounge will do.”
He reclined against the pillows on one end of the chaise lounge and gestured at the opposite side. “Please, my mate.”
I took off my boots but left my jumpsuit on and mirrored his pose. I was dripping already. Could he smell my arousal?
“I imagined you onstage, singing,” he continued without being prompted. His hand traveled languidly over his chest, flicking his nipple piercings and gliding over his abdominal muscles. “I heard your voice and imagined your smile.”
He took his cocks in his other hand, slipped a finger between them, and stroked once.
Gods. I let out a shaky breath edged with a moan.
“I thought about how beautiful you were beside the lake.” Another slow, gentle stroke, and twin streams of gleaming precum spilled out to trickle down his fingers. “The waterfall’s mist on your face, glistening in the lights. I imagined how your lips would taste.” His tongue slid over his own lips, and his strokes became less gentle and more purposeful. “I wanted to kiss you. To feel your lips on mine. I wanted to fill your mouth with my cocks.”
His hand slid up and down his cocks. My own fingerstwitched, aching with my desire to take over. And my mouth watered thinking about taking his cocks in my mouth.
In desperation, I opened the front of my jumpsuit along its seam and cupped my breasts, pinching my nipples. Oh, delicious pain. “And then what did you imagine?”
His breathing turned ragged. “I imagined my cocks in your pussy and your ass. You were calling my name.”
I couldn’t help it—I slid my hand into my jumpsuit and between my legs, where I was sopping wet. “Mikas,” I whispered.
“Yes.” His eyes blazed with need as he stroked his cocks. “Touch yourself, my mate.”
With a whimper, I slipped my fingertips into my dripping slit.
“Show me,” Mikas growled. “I want to see how wet you are for me.”
Trembling, I withdrew my hand to show him my glistening fingertips.
“Beautiful,” he said, his chest heaving. “Shall we continue?”
I couldn’t imagine saying no to that. “Yes.”
I wriggled out of my jumpsuit and tossed it on the floor next to my boots. I wanted so badly to climb on top of him, but there was something so decadent and satisfying about watching him pleasure himself to me.
So I settled back into the pillows on my end of the lounge, spread my legs, caressed my slit, then dipped my fingertips inside myself. I moaned and cupped my breast with my free hand.
“Gods, Isla,” Mikas groaned, his chest and stomach muscles tightening as he stroked himself harder. “I want to come.”
“No,” I said sharply. “I’m not ready. You have to wait.”
He shuddered hard, almost doubling over, but he slowed his movements. “Gods,” he repeated, and that time it sounded like a prayer.
My fingers slick and dripping and my gaze on Mikas’s face, I circled my swollen clit. “Mikas, what else did you imagine when you thought about me?”
“I cannot say,” he rasped. “You are too beautiful. I am trying…not to come.”
I imagined it for myself: Mikas, on his basking stone just like this, head thrown back and cocks splattering precum over his hand and stomach and legs as he envisioned what I would look like under him or on my hands and knees in front of him.
But I didn’t have to imagine what that felt like because I’d already come with his cocks filling me up and making me scream. My pussy and ass clenched, desperate to feel those overwhelming sensations again.
