“I’m glad to hear that, babydoll. Spread your legs a little.”
She does, and I’m happy to see that she doesn’t seem nervous anymore. I still go carefully, gently, moving from her shoulders to her arms, from her arms to her chest. And there, I lightly, deliberately, graze the head of the wand over one erect nipple.
The effect is immediate and deliciously gratifying. She lets out a needy gasp and arches to its touch, trying to bring it back. I oblige her, giving each tight little tip all the attention it deserves. And then when I have her arched and breathless and her hips moving and seeking relief, I move the wand down her tummy.
“Oh,” she breathes, and her head comes back to rest against my shoulder. “Oh.”
The wand buzzes playfully around and around her navel, dipping to buzz at the soft curves of her inner thighs. And just when she’s twisting and turning, trying to chase the buzz with her hips, I give her what she needs. I spread my hand over her tummy, tuck her close to me, and then nuzzle the head of the wand against her clit.
“Oh,” Zenny pants out, her voice incandescent with surprised pleasure. “Sean, that—it feels so good…”
I chuckle, arranging one of her perfect thighs so that I can angle the vibrator better against her. “That’s the idea, Zenny-bug. It’s not supposed to feel bad.”
“No,” she mumbles, her body a hot, sinuous writhe against mine. “Not bad. Good.”
I grin, kiss her ear, and then have her brace her hands on the headboard again. I love playing with her like this, with her back to my chest and my arms around her, but all that movement against my dick is going to have me spending my seed in no time, and I don’t want that. I want this to be about her, only about her.
And so after she has her hands on the headboard and she’s raised slightly up on her knees again, I slide the vibrator under her from behind, so that she can control the angle and the pressure, so that she can ride it, and my girl takes to fucking herself against the vibrator like a champ, finding a slow, rolling rhythm that leaves her sweaty and trembling after only a few moments.
I watch the show in front of me, enthralled, hypnotized, my cock past human levels of hardness and into mithril or adamantium categories of hardness. And my balls are already drawn up so tight, and some jagged ache is already scissoring so deliciously deep in my groin, and she is just so beautiful like this, her head hanging between her shoulders, as if she’s overwhelmed with the pleasure, and with every lovely, firm line of her back and waist and ass available to view. Moving her pussy so well over the toy, and I’m so proud of her, and I tell her this. I tell her how brave she is for trying something new, and I tell her how much her trust means to me, how much I treasure it, how much I want to deserve and deserve her. I tell her how beautiful she is, how good her ass and thighs look as she circles her cunt over the toy, how strong and how sweet she looks.
And my words make her moan even more, her body rippling with pent-up need as she gets closer and closer to the edge, and then she accidentally moves herself too far forward and instead of rubbing her pussy against the vibrator, the blunt head of it slides back against the firm eyelet of her asshole.
A shudder runs through her entire being, all the way down to her toes, and then she does it again.
On purpose this time.
I am frozen on my knees, holding this wand for her, watching as this virgin nun rides a vibrator against her ass, listening to her dirty moans and whimpers as she gets closer and closer, and then it happens. Not with the vibrator against her clit or her G-spot or even a nipple. No, my best friend’s little sister comes in a toe-curling, groaning climax with the vibrator against her anus, and I’ve got the best seat in the house.
And with a ragged grunt and a release I can feel jerking at the muscles of my stomach and thighs, I erupt all over her legs and her ass and the bed. I erupt without her touching me, without even touching myself, just from fucking watching her, and I spill everywhere, in huge, hot spurts that lace her skin and my wrist and the wand and basically everywhere, and the fuck of it is that I’m still hard when I’ve finished, and when Zenny turns around, dazed and still quivering, she whispers, “Do it again, show me, show me,” and I do, I show her. I drop the wand and grab myself, and I’ve never done this already messy and sticky from myself, and it’s shockingly filthy, even for Sean Bell, to use my own cum to jack myself off with, but that seems to be the way with Zenny, that she nudges me into the new and the depraved when I thought there were no more new depravities to be had.
In any case, the memory of her firm ass moving against the wand is still painfully, sweetly fresh, and her expression now—avid curiosity and blatant lust—and her hands rubbing up and down my stomach, smearing more cum everywhere—
Well, it doesn’t take long. I come again, this one more powerful and more vicious than the first, tearing through me like a tornado, and Zenny hums with approval as I do, her hands dropping down to squeeze my thighs as I pant and spurt my way through it.
“Jesus Christ,” I manage, after my body is finally drained completely dry. I feel like I’ve been hit with a truck. But a sexy, amazing truck I want to be hit with every day for the rest of my life. “What are you doing to me?”
“Making you very, very…” her voice is a seductive whisper as she leans close enough to my face to kiss me “...very, very…sticky.”
The next week passes in a tightrope walk of longing and release. I refuse to allow myself to be the reason Zenny falls down on any of her responsibilities, and so I drive her to all of her clinical rotations, classes, and shelter shifts to make her life easier, and I make her do her schoolwork at night before we get to fool around, sitting at the kitchen table with me as I work on contracts and review client emails. It’s agony to miss her all day and then to be so close and still need to keep my distance, but it also assuages some of the guilt I feel about our unusual arrangement. I feel like I’m helping her, supporting her and taking care of her, and feeling that way about a woman I like the way I like Zenny is beyond addictive.
But sometimes Elijah’s face will flash in my mind, like a big YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE warning, and then I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a terrible thing that I’m so addicted to Zenny.
“Am I big brothering you too much?” I ask over breakfast.
Zenny looks up from the nursing textbook in her lap, blinking. “Explain,” she commands.
“Making you move in. Driving you places. Making sure you finish your homework. Fixing your coffee in the morning.” I bring said coffee over to her to punctuate my point.
She accepts her coffee with a grin. “It is very, very terrible having a sexy millionaire play personal barista, personal chauffeur, and personal orgasm attendant with me.”
I sit down in the chair across from her, leaning forward on the table and wrapping my hands around hers, which are currently wrapped around the warm mug.
“I’m serious, Zenny-bug,” I say.
“Alright,” she says and seems to give it some thought. “Okay, well, I chose to move in here for the month, and yes, that was under the influence of many orgasms, but I don’t regret it. I actually like that my success matters to you as much as it matters to me. I’m used to—” her hands flutter under mine as she searches for the right words “—going it alone, having to be the best but also having to make it look easy, you know? I get tired, and it’s nice to feel like someone’s in the game with me, like it’s not all on my shoulders anymore. Which it still is in a practical sense, but at least it feels easier. At least it’s less lonely. And a lot more fun.”