He definitely looks like he does.
Especially when I sit back on the bed, positioning myself right in front of him so that he has a clear, unadulterated view of every last inch of me.
I can see the outline of his erection pushing through the front of his pants but he doesn’t unzip himself. He doesn’t so much as move. He just sits there, still as a statue, and watches me as though I’m enough all on my own.
As I turn on the clit stimulator, though, I hear a low rumble. For a moment, I think it’s the air conditioning—then I realize it’s Uri himself, growling under his breath like a caveman. And just like that, I’m desperate for him to touch me. The thought of his hands roaming and claiming all over my body is the image I use as I put the stimulator to work.
I didn’t think that having someone watch me masturbate would be this much of a turn-on. But strangely, that’s exactly what it is. Even when my eyes are closed, I can feel him watching, drinking in every move I make.
I’ve never liked being the center of attention.
Then again, I’ve never been a billionaire mob boss’s prisoner before, either.
First time for everything, I guess.
As I press the stimulator harder against my clit, I peek open one eye so I can see him.
And boy, is that a move.
Everything feels immediately amplified. Ten times as intense. I guide the stimulator up and down, working my clit frantically. It feels good, but it’s not giving me what I want. It’s not giving me the heat or intensity he’s giving me.
And that’s just with the strength of his gaze.
If he dared to touch me…
My lips part and a loud, strangled moan escapes. My eyes close for a second, but the moment they’re open again, they latch onto Uri. He’s still not touching himself but he is gripping the arms of the chair so hard that I’m wondering how much longer the wood can last.
His name is on the tip of my tongue, and I know without even having to ask that it would shatter the very last bit of his restraint. I can’t allow myself to say it, though. It was one thing when I thought I was alone. It’s a whole other thing to call out to him while he’s in the room. So I bite down on my lips to keep those two dangerous syllables from slipping free.
Frustrated, I drop the stimulator to the side and start using my fingers. When it comes to sex, my experience is limited. I would go so far as to say my skills are limited, too. But when it comes to self-pleasure…
Ya girl knows her shit.
I arch my back and push two fingers inside myself. I have no control of my moans at this point. They’re flying free one after the next, encouraged by the way Uri’s eyes flare every time I let one rip.
His knuckles are bone-white and his erection is twice as big as it was a moment ago.
It’s the first time I can ever remember thinking, I want him on top of me. His weight, his scent, his skin… all of it.
My first boyfriend once told me that I looked like I was smelling a rotten egg every time he came on my belly. When we broke up, I told him that a rotten egg smelled a hell of a lot better than his cum.
Needless to say, we didn’t stay friends.
I can’t imagine that there’s any part of Uri I wouldn’t crave, though. And the thought of him pulling out of me and erupting on my stomach…
“Mmm…”
“Are you gonna come for me, narushitel?”
I don’t have the spare brain cells to remember what that little nickname means, but honestly, part of me kinda likes that. It just means me. And coming from his lips, in that raspy, Russian-accented growl? That’s a clit stimulator all on its own.
“Yes!” I whine. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
I orgasm with my eyes on him, drinking in his reaction, waiting for him to reach down, to free his cock and touch himself. But he doesn’t. Not even as my body writhes and explodes. He may not have touched me but we both know he’s the one responsible for every second of my pleasure.
My hands drop; my fingers actually feel a little sore. And as they do, a shadow falls over me, cutting the light in half.
Uri is standing by the edge of the bed, watching me with a hunter’s gaze. And yet I’ve never felt safer. I’ve never felt calmer.
I’ve never wanted a man to touch me more.
I sit up and reach for the buckle of his pants. He doesn’t stop me, so I unbuckle him and pull them down. My mouth fills with saliva as I pull his boxer briefs down next.
This is new, too.
Blowjobs have never been my thing. I used to find them tedious and, quite frankly, a little gross. But now that I’m faced with the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, the idea of putting it in my mouth not only feels natural—it feels necessary.