Page 63 of Twisted Pact
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Where did you touch yourself? Here?” His hand trails down my throat. “Or here?” He uses a finger to trace around one bare nipple.
My pulse races under his touch. “Both.”
“Show me.” The command is quiet but absolute. “Right here. Show me how you touched yourself when you thought about my cock inside you.”
My breath catches. That voice. Low. Commanding. It hits me like a spark and melts straight through me.
I hesitate for just a moment before slowly sliding my hand down my body and over my stomach, while maintaining eye contact. I rub the moist spot between my legs, and he smirks.
“That’s it,” he growls, watching my hand move. “But we both know the real thing is so much better than your fingers, don’t we?”
In affirmation, I wrap my hand around him and stroke once, longingly.
“Fuck.” His hips buck into my hand. “You’re going to kill me, Zaika.”
“Good. Now go sit in that chair.” I nod toward the armchair in the corner of his room.
“Mila—”
“Sit. Down.”
He squints at me but does as I ask. Once he’s seated, he rests his hands on the armrests, and I see how tightly he’s gripping them.
Good. Let him be the one who’s off-balance for once.
I stand from the bed and take a step toward him. Then another. Taking my time.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I stop just out of reach. Close enough that he can see all of me but can’t touch.
“Like what you see?” I ask.
He lets out a low, rumbling sound, “You know I do.”
I walk toward him, and when I reach the chair, I place my hands on the armrests beside his. Then, I lean in close enough that my breasts brush against his chest.
“You’re killing me,” he groans.
“Good.”
I straddle his lap without sitting down, hovering above him so my body is inches from his but not quite touching. He can see everything and feel my heat, but he can’t have it yet.
His hands come up to grab me, but I catch his wrists.
“No touching. Not yet.”
“This is torture.”
“That’s the point,” I giggle.
I lower myself just enough to let my wetness brush against the head of his cock. I rock forward and grind against him. His cock is rock hard, and I feel it throbbing.
I wrap my hand around him, stroking him agonizingly slowly as I gather the precum with my thumb and use it to ease the glide.
“Fuck, Mila.”
