It helps that the room is silent. I can’t hear Langston.
So why do I keep thinking about him?
He’s holding me captive and has threatened to kill me—that’s why.
Stop thinking about Langston!
I open my eyes, staring out at the darkness.
Focus.
I bring my knees toward me, placing my feet flat on the floor and letting my legs fall apart, wide and open.
My hands take their time exploring my own body. It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to get myself off. Waylon keeps me more than satisfied.
And before that, it was Jason, Andrew, Carter…
The men in my life have been endless.
My hands start sensually exploring with a light touch down my neck. My skin is soft and hot beneath my fingers. My breasts feel large in my hands. Down I trail my hand over the softness of my stomach, purposefully avoiding any scars that remind me of my old life, before I feel between my legs.
I’m dry, not wet.
I haven’t done nearly enough to turn myself on yet.
My hand rises back up, and I suck slowly on my fingers, providing moisture to turn myself on.
I use one hand to spread my pussy lips and the other to find my clit. I rub my saliva over my clit, warming myself up. I move slowly; I have all night after all. There is no pressure to come quickly.
It’s been so long since I’ve touched myself like this that I’ve forgotten what I like—slow, light pressure or fast, hard pressure. Do I like a circular motion or the flick of my fingers over my sensitive bud?
Soon, I find my rhythm. I’m breathy, warm, and my heartbeat is pounding.
That’s when I slip a finger inside.
I’m wet—but barely.
“Jesus Christ.”
I think of Waylon—of his tanned skin, his thick rippling muscles, his perfectly plump cock.
I pump two fingers in and out, concentrating on Waylon.
I get minimally wetter.
Dammit.
I remove my fingers in frustration.
I know what will turn me on—a stubborn asshole who locked me in a closet but not before giving me a panty-melting, hungry glare. One that tore through my robe and told me he knows exactly what to do with my body.
With Waylon, I had to teach him how to turn me on. I have a feeling Langston would just know. There would be no need for instructions. He’d sense what I needed; understand me more than I do myself.
I won’t let my mind think about Langston.
I can make myself come without a man’s help.
My fingers return to my pussy as I focus on my breathing. I pump in and out of myself while my thumb circles my swollen clit.
A low moan hums through my belly, bringing me closer to the beautiful explosion my body is capable of making.
Footsteps creep outside the floor, startling me.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
I was so close to coming.
Who am I kidding? I wasn’t anywhere close.
I remove my fingers and fumble with the robe, tying it around my waist.
I’m sure it’s just Langston returning to go to sleep, but the heaviness of the footsteps concern me. Langston can move silently if he wants. All of Enzo’s men can. Enzo taught them how to move like ninjas before they turned ten.
The fact that I can hear the creak of each step tells me he wants me to hear him.
Maybe he saw what I was doing and thought he’d interrupt? Make me sexually frustrated all night? Maybe that’s my punishment?
The footsteps stop.
I hold my breath, listening carefully for Langston in the bathroom or climbing into bed.
Will it be easier or harder to touch myself knowing he’s so near?
I guess I’m about to find out.
Clank.
I hear scratching at the door. The sound of the lock turns, followed by the door. A sliver of moonlight creeps in behind him, illuminating his outline, but hiding his face.
“Langston?” I breathe out. He’s returned to punish me, I have no doubt.
He doesn’t answer me. He walks silently toward me, his feet sounding loud and heavy.
He’s trying to scare me, prepare me, for what he’s about to do to me.
But I’m one step ahead of him.
He squats down in front of me and takes my hand in his.
“You smell that?” I ask, my voice is raspy.
He lifts my fingers to his face and takes a deep inhale. There is no mistaking what my fingers smell like: sex.
He growls low and deep. The sound vibrates through my body—the missing piece to my arousal.
He grips me hard on the biceps, pinning me against the wall with his legs between my knees and thighs.
I don’t know what he has planned as punishment for me, and I don’t care.
Right now, I need to come. I need to chase the demons inside my head away.
I grab Langston’s hand and tear it from my bicep. He thinks I’m going to fight him, that I can’t handle his touch. Just the opposite. My body is begging for a man’s touch.
I spread my legs wider. And although I can’t see Langston’s face, I know he’s shocked.
His heart rate is about to double in speed.
Carefully, I pull his fingers to my mouth and suck viciously. I let my teeth scrape harder than I should, but I want his fingers nice and wet before he touches me. Then, I glide his fingers to my entrance.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
His fingers don’t move from my slit, but they don’t push inside me either.
I’m impatient and needy. I won’t wait.
I grab his hand and push his fingers inside me.
I gasp as I grip onto his shirt with one hand, and keep my other around his wrist.
“Fuck me, Langston.”
I guide his hand in and out. Eventually, he starts moving his fingers in and out on his own accord.
My head falls back against the wall, and I spread open wider for him so he can get deeper inside me.
Langston takes full advantage.
“Yes,” I moan as he pounds his fingers inside me.
I bite my lip, and he pushes again and again.
“More,” I breathe. “I need more.”
It takes him a moment to catch my meaning, but he pushes a second, then a third finger, inside.
“Oh, god, yes!” I moan, no longer forming coherent thoughts in my head.
It feels incredible, but he has yet to touch my clit. Probably because he thinks if he doesn’t touch me there, then I won’t gain pleasure. Then this is still a form of punishment.
Ha.
There is nothing punishing about this.
I grab his other hand and slide his fingers over my clit.
“Rub,” I order.
He growls again but complies.
He starts rubbing, but his fingers only manage a couple of rubs before he slips off my clit.
Damn, Langston!
There is a loud sound.
Langston stills.
“I’m so close,” I exhale.
He ignores me.
Then, suddenly, his fingers are gone.
And then, so is he.
No!
He doesn’t get to get me all worked up and then not finish me.
I jump off the ground and run to the door.
It’s open.
I run out and chase Langston down the hallway. I don’t care if an army is attacking us, he better come finish what he started right now.
I don’t make it far until I run into a brick wall of a chest.
I stop abruptly.
His fingers hold me back at the waist.