As if sensing my thoughts, he asks, “Would you like me to show you, too?”
“Yes.” The answer is out before he can finish, and that grin deepens, displaying the dimples on either side of his cheeks.
No, no. Go back to frowning. That smile is far more dangerous.
Enzo lifts on his knees just enough to slip the shorts down his ass, maneuvering until they fall away completely. The second his cock is freed, I can’t look away.
So fucking beautiful. So fucking lethal.
Long and thick, with veins roping throughout the hardened flesh. Flashbacks of that first night we spent together bombard me, and even now, I can remember the feel of him driving inside me. How he used his dick and fingers with so much precision that he made me physically squirt too many times to count. Something I’ve never been able to make myself do. Yet, I implied I could touch myself better. When, in reality, no one has ever touched me the way Enzo does.
He wraps his hand around his cock, and if I were standing, my knees would collapse from the sight. My mouth waters as he pumps himself once, twice, three times, and his head kicks back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he groans.
Dropping his chin, he gives me a look full of both warning and challenge.
“Now, Sawyer. Show me how to touch yourself like I will show you. And when we’re both done, we will see who lied better.”
He knows that I don’t need to demonstrate how to make myself come any more than he needs to. Enzo and I—we’re not very compatible, I think. We speak different languages most days, and it’s a constant battle of figuring each other out. But when we’re stripped of our clothes and our bodies are doing the talking, we understand each other as if God was never angry with humans and separated us by the way we move our tongues. When we’re like this, the way we move them is the only thing that makes sense.
I slide my hand down my stomach and in between my thighs, biting my lip when he follows my movements raptly. My eyelids flutter when I brush my finger across my clit, teasing myself for a few seconds before dropping lower and dipping my middle finger inside me. I’m dripping wet, and the noises my body makes are vulgar, but I’m past caring when it pulls a groan from deep in his chest.
He fists his cock tighter, as if overcome with the sight, and begins to slowly pump himself, his mouth falling open.
I move my fingers back up to my clit and circle it firmly, unable to contain a husky moan. My entire body is on fire, and the pleasure radiating from my pussy has my eyes rolling.
Normally, I’d close them and pretend someone else was touching me instead. But with Enzo crowding over me, pleasuring himself as he watches me, it would kill my building orgasm if I dared look away.
“Tell me a truth,” he rasps, his hips jerking as he strokes himself faster.
My legs quake, a coil forming deep in my stomach and stealing my breath from the intensity of it. This feels too good, and thinking of something to say is challenging. He might as well be asking me to sprint through quicksand.
“I… I still feel dirty,” I profess, and I have no idea why the fuck I just said that, but it’s enough to send liquid heat straight up to my cheeks. I can feel how hot my face burns from the confession, but I only rub my clit faster. Determined to run away from what I said and hide from the way he seems to stare right through me.
“T-tell me a truth,” I stutter, hoping he'll relieve me from that painful confession.
“I lie to myself every day. I tell myself that I'm so fucking addicted to you because of how sweet your pussy tastes or how it cries so easily for me. But I know it's only because of you.”
I bite my lip, my face crumpling from how raw and exposed I feel, and for the first time, I don't feel like running. I feel like staying and letting him watch me unravel.
“Now tell me a lie,” he demands, his voice gravelly, deepening his accent just the slightest.
I shake my head, my brow pinching with concentration as the coil tightens.
“I hate you,” I whisper, spreading my legs wider so the pleasure sharpens.
Enzo’s face contorts, and once more, he appears angry as he stares down at me. Despite the severity of his features, he groans, stroking himself faster and tugging harder.
“Fuck, I hate you, too, baby.”
My hips jerk while my heart seizes, a maelstrom of pain and pleasure circulating throughout my body. I gasp as the coil tightens, then snaps, my orgasm ripping through me and tearing me to shreds.
“Yes, yes, that's so good,” I chant breathlessly, bucking uncontrollably against my hand.