Page 53 of The Summer I First Saw You
I settle back against the pillows and let my legs open a little bit more. Never in my life have I masturbated in front of someone, and I can’t imagine why I’m considering it now when not two minutes ago I was crying about the way he rejected me, but…he’s already admitted he wants to see it. He’s already admitted jerking off to the thought of it.
I slide my hand into the waistband of my pants and down between my legs. “So you just picture watching me like this?”
His eyes are dangerous now, hazy and feral. “Daisy, what the fuck are you doing?”
I shrug. “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I’m doing. I’m sliding my finger along my clit, then—”
I slide one finger inside myself and my head falls backward. I started this just to torture him, but find myself strangely turned on by the whole experience too.
He swallows. “I should go.”
“I want you to watch,” I reply. I’m growing bolder by the minute.
He winces, nostrils flaring as his head turns, as his gazedrifts to that hand between my legs. “Do you have a finger inside yourself right now?” His voice is pure gravel.
When I nod, he groans, his jaw grinding. “Oh, God.”
“Do you want me to do it again?” I ask. “Should I add a second one? Because I want to. I’m pretending it’s your fingers sliding inside me.”
He gives his cock a hard squeeze, as if he can’t stand not to be inside me while I do this. When I run one hand over my tank top and pinch a nipple, he leans closer, his exhale reverberating over my skin.
“Do it again,” he whispers, wrapping a hand around my ankle. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”
I could argue that if he’s going to watch me, he might as well participate, but I’m too far gone. I do it again, my fingers slipping in and out easily now, and suddenly he’s kneeling between my spread legs, grasping himself tight, his eyes on me as if I’m something that could vanish at any moment.
“Take off the pants,” he growls. His hesitation has vanished entirely. He’s every bit as demanding, ascertain, as I thought he might be.
I tuck my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and lower them. Air hisses between his teeth when he realizes I’m not wearing panties and he yanks them the rest of the way down my legs.
“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice low and guttural.
I battle a wave of stage fright—somehow it was different when he couldn’t see precisely what I was doing, but I go ahead and slide my hand over my stomach again and between my legs, where I am so soaked that I’m a little embarrassed by the sound as I circle my clit again and push my middle finger inside myself.
The expression on his face—eager, desperate—emboldens me. I let my knees fall open and his sharp inhale in response leaves my body tightening, clenching on air.
While I normally come pretty easily on my own, it doesn’t happen this fast, but I’m already close. His hand starts to slide up my calf.
“How is it, Daisy?” he asks. “Tell me how it feels inside that tight little cunt of yours.”
“Oh, God,” I moan. “Say that again.”
His grip on my calf tightens even farther. His other hand is fisted around his cock. “You like that, do you? You like that it gets me off, imagining what it’d be like inside your tight cunt? I’ve been thinking about it every day since you fucking arrived. Thinking about how hard I would fuck you, how hard I would make you come.”
“Harrison.Fuck.” I go right over the edge at the words, my eyes squeezed shut. He utters a curse under his breath, and that hand on my ankle is the only thing keeping me tethered to the bed. He didn’t eventouchme and it’s still the best orgasm of my life.
I have to fight to return to reality. Under heavy lids, I take in several things at once—those avid eyes of his, his cock pushing hard against the elastic of his boxers, which he grips as if he’s in pain. He’s so goddamn desperate for it.
“Your turn,” I purr. “You owe me one now.”
I fully expect him to offer some tedious explanation about why that can’t happen, but instead he tugs the boxers down and thrusts into his fist, inhaling through his nose.
“Jesus,” he whispers. “I’m already close.”
I stretch, wishing he’d push inside me or crawl up and demand I take him in my mouth.
“Tell me what you were thinking about just now,” he says as his hand moves faster. He slides my tank top up with the other. “Tell me what you were thinking about when you came.”
“I was thinking about you above me, about to push inside me.”Like you were last night, though you don’t remember it. Hardas steel, aggressive, certain you wanted it.“I was thinking about how tight it would be, how you’d barely fit—”
