Page 94 of Liminal
“Fuck. No underwear.”
I’m confused about what he means before I remember that he doesn’t consider a shift an undergarment.
I give him a soft spin, pressing my ass out a little to tease him. “Is this everything you expected, Mr Winthrop?”
The coolness of my tone seems to affect him in strange ways, turning his breath choppy.
“Better, boss.”
He backs up, shoulders falling against the tile behind him as he cocks a finger at me. “Come see what you do to me.”
I float closer before I can stop myself, pressing myself through the glass until I’m within touching distance. Whatever tease I provided has backfired. I’m the one entranced by the sight of the red and angry head of his cock as it disappears rhythmically into his fist.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips before I can help it.
“Fuck. You’d suck me dry if you could, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs, tracking the motion.
“Only if you were a very good boy.” I shrug, trying to maintain my composure, though in reality I want nothing more.
Lambert freezes at my words, and a pearl of white liquid spurts from the head of his cock, dribbling down his shaft in a mouthwatering trail IwishI could trace with my tongue.
Interesting.
I performed that particular act multiple times while I was alive, but I’ve never desired it as much as I do right now. Most of the time, it was simply a way to satisfy my partner when I wasn’t in the mood.
Something tells me that sucking Lambert’s dick wouldn’t be anything like those rushed encounters. I would savour tasting him, make him hold the headboard until I was thoroughly satisfied that I’d learned every vein on that gorgeous shaft.
“Fuck. Boss.” His free hand is fisted by his side, knuckles white and veins popping as he fights the desire to touch me.
I want to come. I want to feel arousal pool in my belly and my pussyachefrom needing him. I want to ride the edge together, then fall over and shatter. The release I crave is coming for him full speed. The geometric designs of the runeforms across his body are twitching with every pump of his hand. I reach up to cup my own breasts, pinching my nipples even though the action is empty.
“If I could, I’d let you fuck these,” I murmur. “You’re long enough that I could lick you at the same time.”
His eyes are hooded, his body a study in barely leashed tension. It only makes me want to push him further.
“Kyrith,” he warns. “Your rules are looking pretty fucking breakable right now.”
“Would you paint my tits with your cum?” I ask blithely. “Or would you rather finish in my mouth?”
Lambert erupts, jets of white shooting through my body to paint the glass behind me in pearly streaks that make me shudder as the water washes away the beads dripping down his hand.
But it’s his face that captures me. He’s gone from wound-tight to relaxed and shuddering in the space of five seconds. I have to admit, satisfaction is a painfully good look on him. Beautiful, even. It’s a far cry from the practised smiles he usually wears—perhaps the most natural expression I’ve ever seen bless his face. It’s enrapturing. If he looks at every girl like he’s looking at me right now, it’s no wonder they keep coming back for more.
I would.
Then he shatters the moment by reaching for me.
I flinch back through the glass so quickly that his pursuing hands collide with it, the screen a painfully obvious metaphor for the real barriers between us.
“You can’t say you won’t snuggle me after that,” he says, pleadingly. “Fuck the rules, please, boss. Let me hold you.”
My breath huffs out of me as I shake my head to clear it.
That was close. Too close.
“You did well in your game,” I stutter.
He can see me running away. The relaxation that looked so good on him evaporates, leaving behind a complicated mess of emotions I don’t have the composure to read. This was probably one of the dumbest mistakes I’ve ever made.
