Page 8 of His to Unwrap
It’d be best if I left her alone entirely. I know that. She’d be better off if I stopped coming into the club, if I left town and stayed away.
But I’m not that strong.
I activate the intercom. “I bet he’d want to find out how tight your little nipples can get,” I growl. She whimpers, nodding her head. “Show me.”
She doesn’t hesitate for a second, her fingers coming up to squeeze her tits. She lets out the prettiest little moan and I wish it was my fingers, wish it was my mouth wrapping around those little buds. I’d suckle her until she was a writhing mess below me. I’d let my teeth sink into her skin until she screamed.
“I like it,” she whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t—he’s a stranger and he’s got me tied up and blindfolded. I should be so scared. But it feels too good.”
“You can’t help it,” I soothe. “Your sweet little body is just too responsive.”
“Yes.”
“Is it making you wet? The way he touches you?”
“Yes! So wet.”
“Show me.”
She takes her time, letting her little hand slide down her body, from her tits down over her belly, going slow, teasing me.I’d spank her for that, I think, shifting to try and take some of the pressure off my dick. I’d spank her ass red for teasing me.
Always fucking teasing me. Every night I come into this place she drives me insane with her little shy smiles and her sinful body. She deserves to be spanked, to be punished.
“Now, angel,” I snap, and the little minx grins before finally moving her hand to the lace thong. I watch, mouth dry, as she slips her fingers below the elastic. I can tell the exact moment she makes contact with her pussy—her sharp little gasp is a dead giveaway.
“Run your fingers through your slit,” I demand. “Gather up all that wetness to show me.” Her chest is heaving on the other side of the glass, her breathing even heavier than it had been while she danced. She’s making the best fucking noises, little gasps and whimpers as she touches herself. I don’t think it would take very long at all for her to get herself off.
Not yet.
“Stop.” I can tell she doesn’t want to—her whimpers have turned to a whine—but she does as she’s told, and my chest feels warm at her obedience. “Now show me.”
Her hand is shaking as she brings it free from her panties and holds it up. Even through the glass I can see how wet her fingers are.
“Fuck,” I mutter, not caring that the intercom is on, not caring that she can hear me. I’m losing my fucking mind and it’s all her fault. “Stand up and get your panties off.”
She moves so fast she almost stumbles, and I grin in the dark on my side of the glass. I like that she’s eager, like that she’s enjoying this as much as I am. She bends to remove the thong and I groan at her bare ass on display for me. I’m tempted to tellher to put the panties in the pass-through cabinet for me, but I manage to control myself.
“Sit on the chair,” I say. “Spread your legs.” I watch as she does, my grip on the arms of my chair tightening. “Tilt your hips up for me. Let me see that little pussy.”
She moans at my words, following my instructions, and I curse once she’s fully exposed for me. She’s so fucking gorgeous between her legs, plump and wet and so pink. I need to get closer, to memorize every detail. To taste her…
Not happening, fucker,I tell myself, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches.Focus.
“I want you to show me what he would do,” I say through the intercom. “Show me how he would touch your pussy.”
She falters for the first time. “I…I’m not sure.” She looks directly at the glass, her beautiful blue eyes wide and imploring. “Will you…will you tell me?”
Fuck.Fuck. She’s such a perfect submissive. She doesn’t want to get herself off in front of me. She wants me to tell her how to get herself off. The distinction makes me even harder.
She wants to please me.
“It’s okay, angel,” I croon, and she visibly relaxes at the sound of my voice through the speaker. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, please,” she whimpers, squirming on the wooden chair. I bet she gets it all wet and messy before the night is over. The thought gives me crazy ideas about stealing the piece of furniture right out of Club Wyld, but I force myself to pull it together.
“I want a finger on your clit,” I tell her. “Be gentle, angel. How does that feel?”
Her drawn-out moan is all the answer I need. “Good girl. Add some more pressure. I bet he’d want to rub circles on that sweet little spot.” Her hips are starting to shift, tilting up like she’s chasing something. “You need more, don’t you?” I ask. “Don’tworry, he’d be able to tell. Your body is so responsive. You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
