Page 24 of Billionaire Romance

“You did? What else do you like?”

“I like this spot,” she says, as she trails her finger over the mark on her shoulder. “When I look at it, I can remember exactly how I felt when you left it there.”

My hands are on my knees, white knuckled from keeping them still, when all I want to do is touch my cock.

“You know, I’ve never seen you like this,” she says, reaching for the hem of her tank top and pulling it over her head. “The tables are turned. You’ve watched me so many times—” she rubs her hand over her breast, cupping it— “commanding me from behind that keyboard—” now she’s wriggling her pajama pants down, and I see her purple satin panties— “and don’t think I didn’t notice how much it turned you on to deny me. How you wouldn’t let me come.” She slips her hands below her panties and her eyes flutter closed, her head lolls to the side as the satin panties shimmer, subtly moving from her fingers sliding around beneath.

My cock is throbbing in my boxers as I watch to her, but I understand her implicit message. Weaver wants to play, but by her rules this time.

“Chris?” She says my name in a sing-song voice, and my eyes snap back up to her face from her panties. “What are you thinking about, Chris?”

“I wish I could feel what you’re feeling right now. I wish it was my tongue on you instead of your fingers.”

“Take out your cock. I want to see you,” she purrs, and I’ve never done anything so quickly in my life. As soon as my cock and balls are free, I spread the small puddle of precum that’s pooled at the tip. The pad of my thumb is rough as it slides over the head and swipes around the swollen ridge. I grip the head firmly and pump a few times, dying to release some of the pressure.

“I said showme,” she says. “I didn’t say touch. Put your hands back on your knees. How does it feel?”

“I’m so hard, Weaver, it practically hurts. I don’t think I can feel anything else in my body. Every feeling is concentrated in my cock, and I need to touch it.”

She sits up now, her back against the headboard, and positions the computer in front of her. Fuck. I have a perfect view between her legs and now I can see the damp spot I’d dreamed of seeing just a few minutes ago. She reaches out of sight and comes back with something in her hand. I groan when I see it’s a black silicone dildo.

My hands are on my knees again, but my dick is jerking, reacting to what’s in front of my eyes. Weaver’s popped the head of the dildo into her mouth, dragging her tongue around it. I can’t decide where to look, because her other hand is back in her panties, and from the movement she’s making, I imagine she’s fucking herself with her fingers.

“What do you want, Chris?” she whispers, that huge fucking dildo resting at the corner of her mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to touch my cock. I want to come watching you fuck yourself with that dildo. I want to imagine it’s me.” I’m breathless. Her hand hasn’t stopped moving and I listen closely, hoping to hear the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out. I remember how my dick felt, deep inside her, how hot and tight she felt when I fucked her the other night.

She slides her panties to the side, and I see her pussy. There’s only a small lamp beside her bed, but it’s enough light to see that she’s pink and glistening. She’s using two fingers, and as she withdraws them, I see they’re shining, completely soaked.

“Touch. But just two fingers and your thumb,” she says, punctuated by a moan as her own thumb comes to rest on her clit and moves in a circle.

I reach down to my cock, and as soon as my fingers touch my skin, my entire body starts tingling. From the ends of my limbs through my torso, my body is humming. I take my fingers and rub the head again, then focus on the spot right under the ridge, making short strokes up. It’s hardly enough, barely any pressure, but instantly my cock is responding. My dickhead looks angry, enormous and deep red, and I gather the precum that’s oozing, allowing my fingers to glide easily up and down. My ears are filled with the sound of my blood rushing, and the need to stroke harder, faster, is urgent.

“Now stop,” she commands, and I steal a couple of extra strokes before I obey. My cock jumps in protest, and Weaver laughs.

“You felt so fucking good last night,” she says. She lifts her hips and slips off the purple panties. It reminds me that I still have her panties from the other night, and I reach off to the side of the bed and grab them from my coat pocket, tucking them under my thigh. She positions the dildo at her entrance, and I can see her pussy spread for it, gripping it, and my fingers twitch. “Do you remember what it felt like? When you were right…there?” She pulses the dildo inside her now, just the tip, and it’s wet and makes a suction sound when it pops out.

“I remember,” I say. “I couldn’t see straight when I slid inside of you. You were so fucking tight, and you felt like you were on fire.”

“You did that to me,” she says, her voice a series of pants. “Your hands, your mouth…fuck…you turned me on…made me so desperate for your cock…I let you fuck me right there, on the street.”

The dildo is disappearing inside her, quicker now, and now I’m the desperate one, desperate for her to be bouncing on me, gripping me, riding me until I explode inside her.

“Let me do this with you,” I beg. “If I can’t fuck you right now, I have to come with you.”

“Show me how you like it, Chris.” she says. “Show me everything I’ve been missing all these months.”

Fuck yes, finally. There’s a small bottle of lotion on the nightstand next to me, and I squeeze a bit in my palm. I grab the base of my cock with one hand and grip with the other, twisting up from the base to the tip, again and again, coating my cock and imagining it’s Weaver’s wet cunt instead. I’m on a runaway train and I can’t take this slow. I watch her, pumping the dildo inside her and playing with her clit, swollen and slippery under her fingers. She must be getting close, because her knees are now pressed flat against the bed and her pussy is gaping open in front of me, giving me a show like she’s never done before.

I move a hand down to my balls, tugging them away from my body, hard. They ache when I touch them, and I pull them harder, focusing on the discomfort to slow down my orgasm. I know this won’t last long, but I don’t want to come too quickly and cut this show short. I can’t take my eyes off her beautiful pussy, so hungry for the dildo. I watch it thrust inside her, stretching her, and I want to reach through the screen and taste her, smell her.

I find the panties that I’d hidden underneath me and hold them to my face, continuing to stroke with one hand. They smell musky, and I groan as I remember dancing with her, touching her waist and causing her to soak them. I wrap them around my dick and the lace creates the most phenomenal friction against me, and I pump slower, feeling the fabric scrape the underside of my cock, tease the head. I see Weaver’s eyes are barely open, and her nipples are a deep pink, hard and swollen. Her hips are moving in rhythm with her hands now, meeting the dildo thrust for thrust. I hear her headboard creak from her back pressing against it, her feet planted firmly against the bed. My hand speeds up, swirling her panties around the head when I get to the top, shivering at the rough feeling on the sensitive head. The pressure in my balls is building, and I feel them tightening up in my hand as I grip them, hard.

Weaver sits up straighter, leaning forward. Her hands have abandoned the dildo, and now she’s just sitting on it, buried inside her, and bouncing softly. Her hands are erratic and frenzied, moving so quickly over her clit they’re just a blur on my computer screen. Her groans are growing lower, coming from deep inside her, and her lips fall open. Panting, she starts saying my name. “Chris, Chris, fuck Chris, I’m going to come.” She’s hypnotizing. Every inch of her is erotic and electrifying, and my hand is moving on its own. My eyes are glued to her, watching her hair fall in her face and her little body bounce, up and down, up and down, as her shoulders hunch up and her eyes squeeze shut. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, and I see a jolt of pleasure, electricity, shake her whole body. She sits up straight, riding it out, her back arched and her tits thrust forward. I’ve never seen her come this hard before. She falls backward, twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and I stare at her pussy where the black dildo has slipped out of her, the sheen on it showing me how wet she is. And the feeling in my balls in now spreading through my body, and I can’t hear, and I can barely see, and I switch hands, hold her panties in front of my cock, and watch as ropes of cum spurt out onto the lace. I grunt, over and over again, until the last drops are spent, and then I lean back, completely exhausted and satisfied.

After a minute, I’m afraid she’s fallen asleep. “Hey, Weaver,” I say gently.

She opens her eyes and gives me a lazy smile and a laugh. “That was different and very…Shit!” She lurches forward and I see her squinting at the screen. “Damn it.”

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