Page 17 of Untangled
Oh.
This isn’t—why did I think this card meant talking about our weekend plans or something, and being naked while doing it?
After waiting for a reply that doesn’t come, he says, “I’d take a handful of each and start by rubbing my thumbs over your nipples. Slowly at first. You’d hate it.” His laugh is light, playful, but the way his eyes darken is not. Desire curls low in my belly.
“You’re a tease,” I reply.
“You know I’m right. You wouldn’t be able to stand it. After a few minutes you’d be begging for more.”
“Says the guy with an erection just from talking about it.” I gesture to his lap, where his cock stands at attention. “I won’t accept any slander aboutmebeing the eager one.”
“Oh yeah? How wet are you right now? Put your feet up so I can see.”
The demand lands like sparks to every one of my nerve endings, hot and sharp. Alive.
This isn’t a game we’ve played before. I think Ilikeit.
With a devilish smile, I lift my feet and place them on the couch next to my butt. I bring my palms to my knees to pull them open farther.
“Fucking hell, Molls,” he says as he leans back and brings a hand to his hair and pulls, like he’s trying to release tension any way he can.
“Like what you see?” I parrot his earlier words.
“God, you’re dripping. All that just for me?”
“Nah, today it’s for me.” I drop a hand between my legs and swipe a finger through my arousal before bringing it higher.
The groan he makes is downright choked. He’s not used to this sort of confidence from me. I’m not either, but his reactions are turning me bold. I’m drunk on the power of watching himsuffer.
“Are you allowed to do that? Touch yourself?”
“The card said…oh shit, that feels good,” I moan, “no touching each other. I think self-play is allowed. Why, are you going to get yourself off by watching me?”
He grips himself and tugs once, then twice. Bringing a palm to his mouth, he spits in his hand before returning it to his cock. He shudders before meeting my eyes in challenge.
“I won’t say no to watching you play with yourself. How about you put two fingers in for me and I’ll pretend I’m the one stretching you out.”
My heart is a pinball ricocheting through my chest. I bring my index finger to my opening and slide it in, keeping my thumb tight to my clit. Daniel’s gaze meets mine and he nods. I slip my middle finger next to it. Anmmmmmfalls from my mouth and hums against my lips. Before I can close my eyes, I hear him grunt.
“No. Eyes on me, baby.”
He’s leaning back in the chair, tight quads holding still as he strokes. Up and down, squeezing himself into his fist with a heaving chest and blown pupils. I match his rhythm withmy own thrusts. The wet smack of my fingers punctuates the silence.
“It doesn’t come close to my cock, does it?” he asks, holding my gaze. “You wish I was filling you up, working you over.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I nod. “Keep…,” I try to push out the words but they’re thready. “Keep talking like that.”
“Is it turning you on, baby? Hearing how good I would make you feel? How I’d give that hand a break by pinning it to the bed and then stuffing you full?”
The room starts spinning. I can’t catch my breath. My fingers move faster, push deeper, and Daniel’s words feel distant but I hear him say, “Come for me, baby. I want you throbbing and soaked, with my name in your mouth.”
My orgasm is a detonation, rocketing through me and knocking me flat. For a few moments I’m missing from this world, wracked by pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. When I come back to my body, I hear myself chant his name.
“Holy shit,” he says between heaving breaths, and I clock the mess he’s made on his stomach. I did that for him. The sight of this droopy, stretch-marked, dimpled body of mine experiencing pleasure made him comehard. The thought turns my heart buoyant, like a balloon in my chest.
It takes a minute for us to reorient. I hop off the couch and grab tissues from the kitchen; I clean myself up before handing him the box.
We don’t talk as we get dressed, but before I turn to head to the bathroom, he envelops me in a hug. His heartbeat thumpsagainst my cheek, and with every breath his stubble catches my hair. If a picture is worth a thousand words, this hug is worth three.
