I move my other hand to my breast, giving my nipple a pinch, which causes me to moan and my hips to undulate against my hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Ah, yes,” I moan, finally starting to feel right.
“Charlee, answer me.”
“What does it . . . seem like?” I answer, my voice becoming strained.
He moves to my side of the bed and grips my wrist, stopping me from continuing.
“Rath, let go. Just because you’re too much of a chickenshit to fuck me doesn’t mean I need to lie here without finding my own release.”
Getting closer, his forehead against my temple, he whispers, “Do not fucking touch yourself while you’re in the same bed as me.”
“Why not?”
“It’s disrespectful.”
That makes me laugh. Straight-up laugh.
“As if you haven’t been jacking off when I’m in the shower or tub. I’m not an idiot, Rath. If you can play with yourself, so can I.”
I go to move my hand but he stops me again. “Not with me in this goddamn bed. Do you hear me? Not when I’m here.” The roar of his voice is startling, and the way he strips my hand away from my body is shocking. But then, when he moves his hand back over my stomach, hope springs again and my legs fall even wider as the center of my body begs for more.
Breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, his fingertips slowly drag up my stomach and then back down. Up . . . and torturously down. With every pass, my stomach hollows and my hips thrust, but he never goes past my waistline and doesn’t touch my breasts. I squirm under his touch, impatient for more.
“Stop moving, or I’ll remove my hand.”
“Rath, I’m so turned on, and you’re making it worse.”
“Exactly. I want you to feel how tortured I’ve felt this past week with you parading around naked in my home and practically naked in the office.” His hand stops right below my breasts where he makes small circles, his fingers barely skimming the underside. “I want you to know the strain you’ve put me through, sleeping naked next to me.” His thumb reaches up and brushes just under my nipple. “And don’t fucking tell me you haven’t been doing it on purpose.”
“You haven’t made it easy either,” I say, lifting my chest, but he just removes pressure when I try to seek release.
“I’ve respected our agreement. You haven’t,” he bites out, his voice so strained, so angry that my stomach flips with a bout of nerves. “Fuck, Charlee. I want you.” He drags his hand back down to my stomach but lower this time, right above my pubic bone. Shamelessly I squirm beneath him. “But this can’t happen between us. Because what happens after?”
“We keep fucking,” I say out of desperation.
“This isn’t a one-time thing for you?” he asks, moving his hand back up where his fingers dance around my nipple, circling, like a feather caressing my sensitive skin.
“From the way you’re touching me, I know this isn’t a one-time thing. I’m going to want you any chance I can have you.”
“And when we divorce, what happens then?” he asks, his fingers inching toward my core.
“Then I continue to work for you and set you up on dating websites.” It will kill me, but I’ll do it.
“You’re going to continue to work for me after we divorce?” he asks, his fingers now an inch away from giving me what I want.
“I’m not giving up my job because we divorce.” I tilt my pelvis up and he pulls away. “Come . . . on,” I cry out, tossing my arm over my eyes. “Rath, I’m going to come just from you touching me.”
“Then come.” His fingers play with my mound, dancing across it, moving to the side, but never gliding down the center, driving me insane, to the point that I can’t take it anymore. I push off the bed in hopes to lay him on his back, but his strength is too much for me and my attempt fails horribly as he pins me down by my arms and hovers above me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Breathing heavily, I stare up at him. I can faintly see the etch in his brow, the desire in his eyes.
“You don’t control what goes on in my bed. I do. Which means, you will be fucking patient.”
He lowers his hips enough so I can feel his erection pressing against his boxer briefs.
“Feel that, Charlee?” He dips his hips lower and slowly makes a wave-like motion with his pelvis.
God, yes.
My body lights up with every pass of his cock over my center. Arms out to the side, pinned down by him, I’m at his mercy, and I have no problem giving myself over to this domineering and electric man. Despite the anger flowing through him, this is the most alive I’ve ever seen him. I’ve seen bits and pieces occasionally, but the emotions passing through him are so palpable I can taste them.
“You’re going to make me come, Rath. Is that what you want?” I ask, my body building to the moment where it will fall over the edge. “Do you want me to come without you inside me?”
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn you.” He pushes off me and scoots to the side of his bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand in his hair, pulling roughly on the short strands. He reaches over to his nightstand and presses the switch to the blinds, illuminating the room with dim city light.
That’s when I see the tension in his back, how stiff he is, how much he’s unraveling. A part of me feels bad that I’ve pushed him this far, but most of me wants him to unravel so he can finally let loose and be the passionate man I know he is.
Scooting to his side of the bed, I run my hands over his back. His body stiffens from my touch and then slowly starts to relax as I press small kisses along the back of his neck and down his spine and shoulders.
“Tell me you don’t want me, Rath, and I’ll stop. I’ll put clothes on right now, end this torture. Say it, tell me to stop.”
He stays silent so I run my hands up the front of him, taking in his strong pecs and rigid stomach.
“Last chance, Rath.” I move my hands to his waistline, just above where his cock is begging to be freed. “Tell me to stop.”
Nothing.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
So, with a whole bunch of courage, I reach into his boxer briefs and grip his thick length, marveling at how beautifully hard he is, loving the pre-cum at the tip. I did that to him. I drag my thumb over the head, spreading his cum over the tip and then around the rim, taking my time, being deliberate with my touch.
He leans into me, his back to my chest.
“Shit, Charlee.” His voice is defeated as he takes my hand and then turns, facing me. Cupping my cheek softly, his demeanor changes. “I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to let this happen, because I swore I’d never let my hands touch you. But I don’t think I can keep that promise to myself, not when I have you like this, in my bed, wanting me just as much as I want you.”
“Then let yourself take what you want.”
“I don’t want this to blow up in our faces.”
I lean my forehead against his. “Then we won’t let it.” Trying to talk over my loud, beating heart, I say, “I can’t think of anything else. All I know is if I don’t have you tonight, I might combust into a million pieces.” When he doesn’t say anything, I glide my hand up to his stubble and revel in the thick feel of it against my palm. “Please, Rath.”