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It matters.
Oh, it fucking matters.
“Not really,” I lie, looking her straight in the eye. “Call it… professional curiosity.”
She looks away, tipping her chin upward to expose the soft skin of her throat and I have to close my eyes against the sight of her. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to keep my mouth to myself. My hands. I can feel my fingers start to curl into the floor.
“Me.”
Her whispered answer opens my eyes. I find her staring up at me. Full, soft mouth slightly parted. Gaze cloudy. Dull.
“What?”
“You asked who’s been touching me. Making me come.” She raises a hand between us, pressing it against my chest. “That’s my answer. Me. I have. A lot.”
Fuck.
Not the answer I was expecting.
“Show me.” I lift a hand off the floor and close it over the one she has pressed against my chest. Pulling her hand to my mouth I put two of her fingers in my mouth, sucking them, getting them wet with my tongue.
Dragging her hand down the length of my chest, I turn it. Shape mine around hers. “I want to see.” I cup her pussy, pressing her middle finger and mine past her slick folds to tease her entrance. “Show me how.”
“Conner…” Her lids slip shut, long, dark brown lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. For a second, I’m afraid she’s going to tell me no. That she can’t. That she’s too embarrassed. Never done this in front of someone else before.
That’s okay. Neither have I. I’ve never done this face to face. Never watched a woman come before.
Before now, I’ve never wanted to.
But then she moves. Tilts her pelvis into the pressure of our hands, hers under mine. She murmurs something, deep in her throat as our fingers, pressed against her entrance, slide in deep. It sounds like my name.
“That’s it,” I say, the words coming out of my mouth wrong. They sound guttural. Like they’d been uttered by an animal who’s just learned how to talk. “Show me how.”
She lifts her hips, moving her finger in and out while I stroke her pussy in tandem, pushing the palm of my hand against the back of hers, tightening my grip on her, finding and matching the relentless rhythm she’s using to fuck herself, our fingers pumping slow and deep.
“You feel so good…” I say in that messed up tone, and I watch while her lips part and she moans, low in her throat. Dipping my head, I latch my mouth around her breast, sucking hard at the swollen tip of it through the lace cup of her bra.
“Oh, my god...”
Pressing harder, I grind her clit with the heel of her hand until she’s moaning uncontrollably, her hips rocking against her hand and mine, shoulders dug into the floor, back arched, breath coming in shuddering gasps. Thighs shaking around our hands.
Lifting my head, I angle myself over her so I can see her face. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”
I know, even before she says it. Her tongue tells me when it licks at the corner of her mouth. The freckle straddling the line of her lip.
My freckle.
“You,” she moans. “I think about you.”
Driven by that fucked-up animal inside me, I push her hand away. Take over.
I want to be the one to make her come.
Me.
Only me.
I slide two fingers into her, fucking her so deep and fast her eyes go wide before slamming shut. “Oh,” she gasps, reminding me how new she is to all this. Before last night, she was a virgin.