I just huffed a small laugh, and traced the designs on his thigh and lower belly. His laugh faded quickly. I glanced at him again—eyes open, now. Watching me. I let my fingers dance around his belly button, thigh, back around, in a circuit. Avoiding what I wanted to touch. My finger ached to wrap around him, to feel him engorge under my touch. God, so beautiful. I wanted him. Wanted to climb onto him and see how much of him I could take, feel him split me open and drive me to screaming orgasm. It would take no time, even without any foreplay. I was so worked up right now, that a single touch to my center would make me come apart.
God I wanted to fuck him so badly.
But I held this all back, kept it relegated to the back of my head.
I wondered if he could see it on my face, if he could read me that well. I knew it showed. I wasn’t very good at hiding my emotions—as a dancer and performer I was trained to let my emotions show, to emote. And as a person, I just couldn’t hide my emotions—they boiled too strong, too close to the surface.
Palm gliding over his thigh, up to his belly, I paused in my avoidant circuit, hand coming to rest just below his belly button. Preparing to touch him.
His eyes flicked open, and his hand rested on mine, stopping me. “Gotta tell you something, Cass. Gotta admit it.”
I met his eyes. “Okay?”
“I…that drawing of you.” A long hesitation. “The story I told, of you in the waterfall…I’ve got that image in my head. Can’t get it out. I’ve been thinking about you for days, can’t get you off of my mind. Drew that sketch of you naked, and…I just couldn’t stop myself from thinking about you. Picturing you naked. In that waterfall. Looking at me. Wanting me. Touching me.” His eyes met mine. “I was in the bathroom when you came over.”
“Yeah?” I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this. Had suspected as much.
“I was…touching myself. Thinking about you.” He closed his eyes. Seemed embarrassed. Upset about it. “Couldn’t help myself. Felt dirty for it. Like I was using you.”
I slid upward, toward his face. Bent over him. Gazed down at him. “Look at me, Ink.”
His eyes opened. “Thought you oughta know.”
“You jacked off, thinking about me, naked, touching you?”
He nodded. Pained. Upset, still. “First time I done that in…years. Since before Elise.”
“Want to know what I think about that?”
He nodded again. “Yeah, I do. The honest truth of it.”
I put my lips near his ear. “Good.” I pulled back, smiled at him, a helplessly aroused, sensual smile. “I’m glad you did that.”
He frowned. “You…what?”
“If that’s using me, then Ink, I want you to use me like that.” I touched my lips to his cheekbone again, kissed him wet and slow. Moved my lips to his, hesitating. Whispered. “Want to know something else, Ink?”
“What?” he murmured back.
“I thought about you, too. Tried to picture you, naked. Touching me. Tried to imagine you naked, hard for me. Pictured my hands wrapped around you…” I let my hand drift south to his belly. “Pictured myself touching you. Making you feel good. Pictured myself naked and on my back, with your face between my thighs.”
He groaned as I inched my hand lower. “Jesus, Cass.”
“Would you do that, Ink?”
“Do what? Put my face between your thighs? Eat you out?” He groaned again, a long, tortured sound. “Until you begged me to stop.”
“I wouldn’t. Not ever. I’d never want you to stop.”
“Then I wouldn’t.”
“But what really turned me on, Ink, what really made me touch myself and make myself come so hard, was thinking about touching you.” I watched his face as I reached for him. “Just…like…this.”
I curled my fingers around his cock, and he let out a long low growl. Hardening in my hand, he grew and grew, to improbable proportions. The tip extended past his belly button. Thick as my wrist, straight and lying flat against his belly. His arousal was shockingly huge. My mouth watered, my core ached.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” he breathed. Eyes flicked open to watch me. “You lyin’, Cass?”
I just held him. “Lying? About what?”
“Touching yourself, thinking about me.”
“No. Not at all.” I stroked him slowly. “I masturbate every day, Ink. Sometimes more than once. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with anyone, and I’m so horny I could explode from it.” I bit my lip, watching his huge erection slide through my tiny hand. “I made myself come so hard I saw double, thinking about you, about touching you. Making you feel good.” I stroked, and stroked, slowly, relishing the feel every satin-soft and hard as iron inch. “I have needs, Ink. Crazy, intense, insatiable needs.”
He was breathing hard. “Needs.” As if making sense, full sentences, was now beyond him.
“Yes.” I used both hands, then, and with both fists wrapped around him at the root, his erection still stood several inches up out of the top of my upper fist, and my fingers only just barely closed around him. “You want to know something about me?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Tell me.”
“No one has ever been able to keep up with me. I finish, and I want more. And more. I just always want more. I want it more intense, more of it, faster, harder, rougher. And no matter how much or how good it is, I want more. I just always want more.” I looked at him, met his eyes. “It’s been frustrating, my whole life. Makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me, that I just can’t get enough.”
He didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. “Before—all that shit happened, you know. When it was just messing around. I felt that way. Like, no matter how good things were, how good it felt, how frequently we did things, like I would just never be satisfied.”
“You still feel that way?” I asked.
He shrugged, shook his head. “Dunno. Haven’t let myself feel anything for a long time.”
I rubbed my thumb over the tip of him. “What about right now?”
He didn’t answer immediately, as if he had to catch his breath, organize his thoughts into something like coherency. “It’s been so fuckin’ long I don’t…you, what you’re doing. It feels like the first time, all over again.”
“Is that a good thing, a bad thing, or just a thing?”
“I dunno. It feels so good, though. I don’t want it to ever stop. I don’t—I don’t want you to ever stop.”
“What else do you want?” I asked.
One hand gliding his length, root to tip, in a smooth slow rhythm, unhurried, I used my other hand to cup his heavy sac, massaging. Filling my hand with their soft, delicate weight.
“I want…” He lifted his hips. Feeling the surge of need, I assumed. Rising, filling him. I wanted to draw it out as long as possible, but I also wanted to see him let go, watch him explode, know I brought him the first true pleasure he’d felt in who knew how long. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Cass. Just you.”
I saw a million things on his face. “I see you, Ink. I see you feeling more than you’re saying.” I met his eyes. “Say it all. Tell me what you want. Tell me you want it. Ask me for it.” I grinned, a sultry smile of desire. “Or better yet, show me. Take it.”