Page 50 of Carver
His finger swirls over my clit and then he presses down with the heel of his hand. My back arches, hitting the wall and thrusting my hips straight into his hand and the source of a thousand more potent shockwaves that hit me all at once, knocking the breath right out of me.
“Please, will you make yourself come, Bronte? I could edge you until you’re begging me to let you climax, but it would be so much hotter watching you do it. I want to know exactly how you touch yourself. I want this private moment. I want all your firsts, including this.”
“That was a pretty nice ask.”
“A pretty hot one too.”
“Look at you.” I can’t keep a goofy grin from breaking over my face. “It’s fun when you talk during this.”
He steps back, leaving me with a gust of cool air while he looks pointedly at the couch.
I don’t know the first thing about putting on a show like this, but I asked Dom to shove himself way the heck out of his comfort zone. He’s still not done givingmea show. He sinks down into the armchair across from the couch and sets his foot on his knee, folding his hands over his stomach.
Waiting.
Waiting for me to make myself feel like a goddess.
Dom might appear to be casually sitting there, in control, playing it up like he’s bored, but it’s clear that’s only a front. Now that he put it out there, he wants this, me,badly. That gives me the courage to sprawl out over the couch, remove my leggings so they live to see another day, and slide my panties down my legs.
Chapter 14
Carver
It’s hard to believe that there’s a world out there, existing, going fast, tilting and turning and moving, all while we’re in here. With Bronte spread out naked on the couch, nothing else exists in this moment.
I’m captivated by her body. She’s lean, muscular, lithe, toned, and curvy in turns. She’s truly a masterpiece.
Her sandy hair spills out behind her and overflows the couch, trailing down to the floor. She laid herself out artfully, like silk draped strategically to be utterly breathtaking. She angled herself so that her feet are pointing to me, her heavy-lidded eyes facing me. She still has a deep tan from summer and her bronzed skin glows in the overhead light, the golden glow floating over her and lapping at her tan lines like ripples in a stream.
She was stiff when she slid off her leggings and peeled her panties down her legs, but now she draws her knees up, running her hands from her knees, down her thighs.
Like a gate falling open, she lowers one leg, still in a curled position, so that I can see what she’s doing. I know she does it just for me because her eyes sweep to my face and a coy smile plays over her lips. She might be nervous, but she’s doing her best to hide it. I didn’t know that I wanted this until I suggested it, but now watching her touch herself isallI can think about.
I want to see her lose herself.
I want to see her find herself.
I want her straining and wild, head tossed back, face a mask of ecstasy.
My cock pounds in my jeans, punching against the zipper. With Bronte’s gaze locked on my face, I spread my legs in the chair, dropping my foot down to the floor. I adjust myself, and not subtly either. There’s no hiding the long ridge of my thick erection down my leg. Her eyes sweep there and her lips part, letting out a breathy little gasp.
I’m going to watch her do this and I’m not going to touch myself. I’m going to sit here and let my cock throb. I’m going to let my balls feel like they’re going to explode. Even if it kills me, this is for Bronte.
I’m going to sit here and do nothing to distract her. Give her zero instruction. I want to see what she does for her own body.
She teases herself, dusting her fingers down her thigh in a smooth caress until she hits the crease of her leg. She dances her fingertips over. She turns her face to the ceiling and closes her eyes, looking like a serene maiden in a field of flowers. One hand is thrown back behind her head, but with the other, she whispers her fingers over her slit and then parts herself.
I’m not going to let anything distract me from her, but my first instinct is to palm my dick and squeeze. My balls feel like they’re three sizes larger than is safe for any man.
I keep my hand resting on my knee, the other on my abs, since it’s comfortable to rest it that way, but a caveman groan works its way out of my throat and past my lips.
Bronte opens her eyes, blinks at me, and shuts them again, She traces her glistening seam before she parts herself again. The overhead light makes it clear just how wet she is.
Her breasts have always been perfect. All of her is perfection. They’re a little bit larger now and they rise and fall with a heavy inhale and a long exhale as she slicks her finger along her entrance and moves up to slowly circle her clit. They rise and fall again, at that first graze of that sensitive spot.
Her nipples are so hard, pointing at the ceiling.
She strokes herself, circling her clit with her damp fingers, her shoulders jacking off the couch as pleasure grips her. She smears more moisture onto her fingers, dipping them into her entrance and pulling back, massaging her clit with one finer while she parts herself with the others.
