Good point. And damned if my dick doesn’t tingle when she calls me dude. In fact, every word that comes out of her mouth gets me hot.
“Spread your legs,” I tell her. “I want to see you.”
She hesitates.
And then she does it, and my breath spirals out of my lungs. Fucking perfection. She’s pink and pretty and glistening and perfect.
I’m going to come way too fast. It’s a fact. But I do my damnedest to prolong the inevitable. I stroke myself in a painfully slow tempo, avoiding putting pressure on the tip of my cock, ignoring the sweet spot underneath it.
“Show me what you would do if I wasn’t here,” I murmur. “Show me how you’d touch yourself.”
Her cheeks turn the sweetest shade of pink. Her lips are parted, just slightly, but wide enough that if I pressed my mouth to hers, I could slide my tongue between the pouty seam and taste her. I want to kiss her so badly, but I resist the urge. This moment is too delicate to risk panicking her again.
Very slowly, Hannah brings her hand between her legs.
A shockwave of pleasure shudders through me. “That’s it, Wellsy. Touch yourself.”
One fingertip brushes her clit. She rubs it. Her touch is measured, exploratory, like she’s taking the time to find out what feels good.
I match her unhurried pace. My body craves release, but this is too important to blow. Literally blow, because I’m so fucking close I have to breathe through my nose and clench my ass cheeks to stop from exploding.
“Does that feel good?” My voice sounds low and strangled to my ears.
Hannah nods, her green eyes wide as saucers. A breathy noise slips out of her mouth, and I suddenly imagine that mouth wrapped around my dick, and I’m dangerously close to losing it. I snap into emergency jack-off mode, squeezing my shaft tight enough to bring a jolt of pain.
Hannah rubs herself even faster, her other hand skimming up her body to cup one firm breast. She toys with her nipple between her fingers and I bite back a growl. I want to suck on that puckered bud more than I want my next breath.
“What are you thinking about, Wellsy?” I voice the question not just for her sake, but mine. I need a distraction. ASAP.
Her gaze stays glued to the lazy movement of my hand. “I’m thinking about you.”
Oh hell. Not that kind of distraction.
My strokes get faster as my hand takes on a life of its own. There’s a naked woman on my bed and I can’t fuck her. I can’t, because tonight isn’t about me. It’s about Hannah.
“I’m thinking about how sexy you are,” she whispers. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you again.”
I almost go to her and give her what she wants, but I’m terrified the spell will be broken if I do.
“What else?” I say thickly.
Her hand leaves her breast and travels over her flat belly, down the edge of her hips. God, she’s tiny. I could probably span the entire width of her waist with both my hands.
“I’m thinking about your fingers inside me.”
I’m thinking about the same damn thing, but I satisfy myself by watching her fingers. She pushes two of them into her pussy, while her other hand continues to tend to her clit. Her cheeks are even more flushed now. So are her breasts.
I realize she’s getting close, and the satisfaction that courses through me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’m doing this to her. I’m not touching her, but my presence is turning her on.
I pump my cock, squeezing the head on every upstroke. “I’m close,” I warn her.
“Yeah?”