Page 50 of West Bound
“Something like that,” he answers as he shoves his pants down off his hips.
I’m distracted from my own progress when his dick slips free from behind the fabric. He’s big, and I can’t help the grin that follows. It’s exactly how I imagined him. I try biting down on my lip, but it’s useless, and I turn my head down so he can’t see. I can feel the heat bloom on my cheeks as he watches me. The silent thoughts I’m having, making me feel more vulnerable than anything else so far.
“What?” he asks, his tone genuinely curious and not at all cocky, which surprises me.
“Nothing.”
“Oh no. We’re not doing that,” he warns me, his tone still warm despite it.
“You’re just living up to the fantasy, is all,” I confess, and I don’t miss the sweet little grin that flashes over his face before it disappears. It makes my stomach flutter with a hint of hope.
“The panties.” He holds his hand out, pretending he’s unaffected.
I raise my hips and slide them down over my thighs and legs. He helps me when they reach my ankles, pulling them off gently past my toes as his fingers brush over my skin.
“Fuck,” he curses as his fingers slip over the fabric. They’re drenched, and I worry I should be embarrassed, but it’s dismissed a moment later with a low groan as he wraps them around his dick. “Perfect. Goddamn. I’ve been dreaming about this,” he mutters as his eyes fall closed. He slides them up and down, and I watch his skin start to glisten with my wetness.
“Oh, hell,” I whisper out loud, and he cracks one eye open, sliding it over me.
“Put those fingers back to work. I want to hear you working yourself up again, Zephyrine.” His eyes are heavy as he watches me. The way he says my name feels like kerosene on a fire, and I do as I’m told. I want him sated, happy. Completely so. Because maybe if he is, if I’m the source of it, maybe I can have more of this—more of him. Which is the only thing that I want right now.
His breathing gets heavier, and he ditches the panties for the palm of his hand, slicking it before he uses it to work himself from base to tip. I tease my clit, careful not to allow too much. I’m already swollen and sensitive from listening to the recording; the live version nearly does me in.
“Fucking hell,” he curses.
TWENTY
Levi
I’m goingto hell for this. Watching this sweet little nun work herself to the edge, knowing I'm the voyeur, is going to be the death of me. She’s perfect with my shirt around her hips, her cheeks flushed, and her pretty little pussy glistening as her fingers circle her clit. There's just enough darkness in the room to cover the worst of our sins and just enough quiet that I can hear every breath and moan she makes.
When she comes, it’s going to kill me. I’ll wake up at the gates of hell. I can feel it. It’ll be worth it, though, for this, to finally have the real version in front of me so close to her own little death.
I’ve made her the center of every fucking fantasy I’ve had for weeks now. Every single time I wrap my hand around my cock, it’s her in my head. Imagining grabbing that wool skirt and bunching it up around her thighs so I could fuck her with my fingers while she bent over my lap and sucked me dry in the church pew after her confession. Dragging her into the confessional so I could fuck her up against the wall. Tying her upand spreading her thighs on that dorm-style bed of hers at the convent until I’ve eaten my fill.
If I tried to count the ways I wanted to corrupt that perfect little body before I sent her to her knees for atonement, we’d be here for days. If she knew how depraved I am, she wouldn’t be doing this for me.
I groan on the next pass. It rips out of my chest louder than I mean for it to, but it’s been too fucking long since I let myself have something. I’ve been trying to stop since we came to the cabin, using the recordings as a kind of exposure therapy. Listening but not touching. I’ve been too focused on trying to walk a line with her, flirting but nothing more. Except the longer we’re stuck together like this, the more I feel like there’s an inevitable cliff we’re both about to fall off.
I glance over at her, and her fingers are soaked as she slips them in and out, using the heel of her hand to gently tease her clit. Edging herself. She loves to draw things out, take her time. She'd watch one video and get so close to coming, she’d whimper like she was in pain when she stopped. She’d breathe deep, steadying breaths, and then she’d start again. Slower the next time if her muted little moans were any indication. I loved those nights. It felt like I got more time alone with her. Like she was drawing it out just for me.
“Talk to me,” she whispers. “You’re so quiet.”
I swallow, my mouth dry and my tongue heavy as I imagine tasting her off her fingers like water in a desert.
“I’m just thinking about how long I’ve been wanting to watch you like this. You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe you’re real.” I worry telling her the truth will be too much for her, and I don’t want to ruin this, but I wish there were a way for her to know how singularly perfect she is.
“Me too. I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish I’d known you were thinking of me,” she confesses, and it reminds me howmuch more of her I’ve had in comparison. I know so many of her secrets, her intricacies, and she’s barely learning who I am outside of my lies. I owe her more than that.
“I’ve been thinking about you for weeks. I can’t stop, not since that first night I was watching you through your phone. Listening to you when you climbed under the covers to touch yourself. The way you sound when you come—fuck!” I groan just thinking about it. My cock is so fucking swollen, leaking from the tip as I try to hold off the inevitable. I’m getting desperate. “Can you come for me, sweetheart? I want to hear you.”
“Okay,” she agrees easily. She lies back against the pillows again, spreading her legs a little wider for my benefit as her fingers slip through her wetness. The sound of it takes my fucking breath away, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself quiet. I don’t want to drown her out.
“It won’t take much,” she whispers. “I’m too close from listening to you.”
“Damn straight.” I flash her a prideful smile. Another sin for the pile because I'm practically gloating with the fact that this woman is going to come to the sound of me fucking my hand for her. I can only imagine how much harder she’d come riding me.
“Oh. Fuck. Oh.” She lets out little stuttered curses as her fingers work a tighter and tighter circle around her swollen clit, teasing herself one last time. “Oh my fucking god! Oh my god.” She cries out, gasping for breath, as she works the peak of her release right off the edge of the cliff.
