“Give me your hand,” Seth says, and I hold one out.
He takes it in his, curls my fingers around his. Kisses me slowly on the knuckles, and when he does, his eyes meet mine.
In them is the most devilish look I’ve ever seen, almost like he’s daring me to stop him.
Without saying a word, he presses my hand to my still-clothed breast, my nipple hard against my palm.
I laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh and Seth grins at me, his hands back on my thighs as I slide both hands over my nipples, palms down, letting the Loveless Brewing shirt ride up.
“Like this?” I ask, as innocently as I possibly can. It’s not very innocent.
“Exactly like that,” he says, his eyes never meeting mine.
I do it again, slowly. I pinch my nipples and grab my own tits and Seth watches me, that look on his face like this is the only thing he’s ever seen worth watching. I drag the shirt up, over them. I gasp with the friction and flash Seth some underboob, and then he growls when I drop the shirt again, my hands under it this time, twisting my own nipples until I moan.
It feels good. It feels better with him watching me.
“Take it off,” he says.
“This?” I ask, and flash him.
“You’re a goddamn tease,” he says, and pulls me in for a quick, rough kiss. “Yes, take your shirt off and quit robbing me of watching you play with your tits.”
I pinch them again and this time I moan into his mouth without even meaning to. Sparks of pleasure shoot down my back, and I pull away from him.
“You first,” I say, my voice scratchy. “Take your shirt off, throw it over there, and put your hands behind your head.”
He does. I slide my hands over my nipples again and watch him, muscles flexing and stretching in one fluid movement. He’s more padded at thirty than he was at seventeen, or twenty-two, but he’s still so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away.
“There,” he says, lacing his hands together behind his head. “You gonna arrest me, Bird?”
“No,” I say, and lean forward, take his wrists. I run my hands along his thick, muscled arms. Biceps.
God in heaven above, biceps.
“That’s what you do when I’m sucking your cock and you’re trying not to grab my hair,” I explain.
Seth grins, more wolf than human, and his muscles flex under my fingers.
“Get that off and quit teasing me,” he says, and I finally pull the shirt off. I touch myself again, let him watch. Lean in for a kiss.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say.
“I think you should put your fingers in your pussy and tell me how wet you are,” he answers.
I do it. I lean back, my other hand on his knee, and I push my hand below the rolled-over sweatpants and slide my fingers past my clit, between my slick lips, and plunge them inside me, my hips bucking as I do. The angle is a little awkward but I shift and push deeper and crook them inside myself, my palm flat against my clit, and I moan as I find that spot.
“Pretty wet,” I whisper, my eyes half-closed. I do it again, press harder on my clit. I swear Seth’s cock twitches as I make a noise.
“Show me,” he says.
“And stop?” I say, moving my fingers again.
“No fair getting yourself off where I can’t see,” he says.
I pull my fingers out. The moment they clear my waistband he grabs my wrist, brings my hand to his face, sucks my slick fingers into his mouth. Seth groans as he licks them clean, and when he’s done, he pulls on my wrist until I spill forward and he captures my mouth with his.
He tastes like me, and it’s sexy as hell. It’s always sexy as hell, every single time he kisses me with my juices still on his lips.
“I miss the way you taste,” he murmurs, lips still on mine.
“I miss the way you shiver when I get on my knees,” I murmur back.
I can feel the animal grin more than I can see it.
“I miss the way you grab fistfuls of my hair when you’re about to come,” he says.
I’m rolling both nipples between my fingers. I don’t know what I started but now I’m breathing hard, trying not to moan.
“I miss the way you shout when I deep throat you,” I say.
“I miss that too,” he says, and his right hand moves under his waistband, wraps around his cock.
“Hey,” I say, and pull his hand out.
Seth just lifts his eyebrows at me.
“Show it off first,” I tell him, and press his palm to his cock through his pants. He groans and lifts his hips, pressing his hand against it, his other hand gripping my thigh.
“Like that, Bird?” he asks, his eyes at half-mast, voice rough and raspy and thick with need.
“Just like that,” I breathe, watching him shamelessly. He does it again, groaning, and before I know it I’m pushing my own hand down, sliding my fingers over my clit, strumming myself softly.
The next stroke, the waistband of the plaid pants rides down and the head of his cock peeps out, nestled in the dark fur of his happy trail.
“Get your pants off,” he murmurs. I obey, still watching, sliding the stretchy fabric over my hips, kicking them off.
“God, you’re magnificent,” he says, and now he’s got his fist around his still-clothed cock, hips rising as he strokes himself.
“Off,” I whisper, pointing at his pants, and he stops long enough to obey, his cock finally springing free.
If I were a poet, I would write sonnets about Seth’s dick. It’s long. It’s thick. It’s very pretty, as dicks go, and most importantly he puts it to very good use.
“Can I touch it now?” he asks, a teasing smile on his lips.
I don’t answer. Instead I straddle him again. I take his hand. One by one, I wrap his fingers around his erection, and then wrap my hand around his. I kiss him hard as he strokes himself, the muscles in his arm knotting.
A moment later he grabs my other hand, pushes it between my legs. Even though it’s my left hand my clit’s so swollen that it doesn’t take any dexterity to stroke it between my clumsy fingers. I kiss him until his breathing goes ragged. I kiss him until I’m shaking, my clit so slippery that my fingers keep sliding off.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
“How good it would feel if we fucked,” I tell him.
He takes his hand off his dick. In a flash I’m on my back on his couch and he’s kneeling over me, then wraps his hand around his cock again.
“Fucked how?” he asks, leaning over me.
I drape one leg over the back of the sofa, curl the other around him.
“Slow at first,” I say.
I put my hand between my legs again, the right one this time, stroke my clit. Seth’s eyes follow.
“You want me to tease you?” he asks. “Find that spot that makes you come but make you wait?”
I just nod. My fingers move faster and harder. My back arches and my hips lift and Seth watches every inch of me, pumping himself into his fist.
“Then harder and faster,” he says. He leans in, one knee between my legs, one hand next to my head. “Until you’re saying my name and your pussy squeezes my cock so hard —"
I stroke harder, faster, my head turned to the side.
“ — That there’s nothing I can do except bury myself in you as hard as I can — “