Page 46 of Light in the Dark
My eyes slide back to the bulge of his cock. I lick my lips, swallow hard. His eyes are on me, but I can't read him.
I rest my hand on his belly. Watch him closely—his eyes narrow, his jaw sets, and his belly pulls in. He wants me to touch him, but he's fighting himself on it again.
Something tells me he has a hangup about something—letting me touch him seems to be a sticking point for him.
My greed for him only grows hotter the more I look at him. I let my hand drift south to the waistband of his underwear, holding his eyes.
"Ember," He breathes. “I…”
"Let me, Fee," I whisper. "Please."
He squeezes his eyes closed, drapes an arm over his face, the other hooked around my shoulders. A non-answer is as much as I'm going to get, I think, and I'll take it as permission.
I pull the elastic away from his belly and pull down, exposing his cock—and holy fuck, what an instrument the man is blessed with.
Getting the waistband past the bulbous head of his long, thick cock, I slide my hand to the other hip, pulling them lower. He lifts his ass and I strip them off—he toes them away from his feet and drops them off the side of the bed, and now he's naked for me.
I look again at his cock.
"Holy shit, Felix," I whisper.
He doesn't answer, except a loud gulp.
His cock is, to put it succinctly, a work of art. I don't know measurements because it doesn’t matter, I just know it's long and thick and straight. A slightly lighter shade than the rest of his skin, it's pinkish and tan and studded with rippling purple veins and wreathed at the base with a thatch of dark, closely trimmed fuzz. The base of him is thicker than the top and the head is broad, fat, and round, glistening with his smeared pre-cum.
I slide my hand down his belly beneath his cock, so the soft weight of it rests on the back of my hand, watching his face, his expression.
His jaw tightens, and his breath comes short. "Fuck. Ember, I—"
“Hush,” I say. "Just let me. I want to."
He shakes his head, but when I slide my hand out from under his cock and wrap my fingers around his thick hard shaft, he groans in raw, ragged relief. "Fuck, Ember. Jesus, I…"
I stroke him, then, down to his root, twist my fingers around him a few times, and then slide my grip back up around his plump pink head. He jerks, curling forward, groaning—
And then he's gone, ripping himself out of my grip, rolling off the bed, and staggering toward the bathroom. He slams the door closed, but I hear him growling wordlessly, uneven, ragged groaning, panting.
Goddammit. Again?
I don't think so.
I roll off the bed and get to my feet, but I stumble and stagger the first few steps—I'm still jellied from the orgasm. Righting myself, I stalk to the bathroom and let myself in.
"Ember," he snarls. "Don't."
"Fuck that, Fee," I snap. "What's your deal? Why won't you let me touch you? You can touch me and make me come harder than I’ve ever come in my fucking life—I still can't walk properly, thank you very fucking much. But you won't let me return the favor? Who's this about? You or me?"
"Both." He's hunched over the sink, gripping the edge of it so hard his knuckles are white, shoulders bunched, spine bowed, cock jutting proudly upward and outward, begging for my touch.
"Well, let me update you on where I'm at right now, okay?" I duck under his arm and insinuate myself between him and the sink, and his cock nudges my belly. "I don't just need to receive, Felix. What I need is a full experience. You gave me half of it, and now I need the other half."
"I fuckingcan't, Ember," he growls.
"Why not? Why can you let yourself make me come, but you can't make yourself let me touch you?"
"I know. I'm sorry, I—"
"Don’t be sorry. Explain it so we can get past it."
