Page 60 of Ella's Masquerade
She popped the buckle.
Then my button.
And slid down the zipper.
“Fuck,” I breathed, every inch of me burning for her. It would be so easy to flip her, to take control, to slide from my boxers into the bare heat waiting for me between her thighs.
She licked the sensitive skin just above my pants and began tugging the fabric down. It required her to move to the side temporarily, gracing me with a view of her hiked-up dress and the sweetness beneath.
My limbs locked, my desire warring with my need to allow her these precious moments of control.
But those luscious blonde curls were calling to my tongue.
My hands.
My fingers.
Mycock.
I bit down on a groan, my hands fisting at my sides.She’s going to be the death of me, I decided.I will literally die because I couldn’t—
“Ella.” I arched off the bed, her unexpected touch nearly undoing me.
She hadn’t wasted any time, her palm falling to my dick and stroking me through the thin cotton. “You’re going to need to teach me.”
“You’re doing just fine without instruction,” I assured her, my skin tightening across my abdomen.
She continued her sensual torture—which she probably considered an exploration—and drew her nails downward and upward, memorizing my length.
I hissed when she stopped, my inclination to grab her nearly overwhelming me.
Until a brush of air hit my groin.
Her gasp caused my lips to twitch. Such a beautiful sound for my ego.
An ego I soon forgot as my boxers disappeared into the pile of clothes already on the floor. I’d kicked off my shoes earlier, leaving me in only my socks—which I quickly removed.
Typically, I preferred the female to disrobe first.
But something about the way Ella admired me now made her approach so much better.
She bent to lick the tip of my cock, her hum of approvalkillingme. “Ella,” I said, my voice strained. “Baby. If you do that—” I bit off on a curse as she took me deep into her mouth.
I grabbed the bedding, demanding my cock behave and allow her to play. Butfuck, it was a challenge in self-control.
A month of heavy making out had primed my body in so many ways that no amount of jacking off could help temper it. Which, yeah, I did. A lot. Including this morning. All to fantasies that involved this very sensation.
My fingers ran through her hair automatically, my muscles reacting despite my mental demand to let her lead. It just went against every single instinct I owned.
Can’t.
Do.
This.
Much.
Longer.
