Page 54 of Almost Rotten

The metronomic inhales of Ty’s breathing fill the space between us. I can’t see him, but his presence and his attention light up the sparks of my desire like fireflies in the peak of summer.

My skin is searing, the lust rushing through my veins warming me from the inside out.

His eyes on me create a hazy headspace that’s better than any drug-induced high.

He’s watching me.

I’m going to touch myself, and he’s going to take it all in.

Mindlessly, I caress my throat, tracing down my collarbones and dragging my nails over the swells of my breasts.

“Fuckin’ A,” Ty murmurs, the phrase thick and growly.

Eyes still closed, I don’t bother hiding my smile.

Pressing my breasts together, I tweak my nipples.

Once.

Twice.

Then harder the third time. Hard enough to make my hips buck involuntarily. Hard enough to inspire a low, wanton moan. Hard enough to make my hearing go in and out.

I play with my piercings, moving them back and forth and tugging on the gold barbells until my cunt has its own pulse and I’m thrashing against the sheets.

Smoothing my hands down the soft skin of my stomach, I travel lower.

When my fingers brush over my pubic hair, I crack my eyes open to check on Ty.

He’s staring at my thighs, mouth agape. His breathing is hard enough I can see every heavy inhalation and trembling exhalation.

It’s heady, being watched. Knowing I’m the reason his pupils are blown out and he looks like he’s on the verge of losing control.

I part my legs wider and bat my lashes. “Is this what you wanted to see, hubby?”

A low growl escapes his lips. He shifts forward, moving as close as he can without actually leaving the chair.

“You’re so pretty,” he says in a hushed, reverent whisper.

A blush blooms on my cheeks and chest, the warmth of it swirling with the growing lust that’s already making me feel like I’m on the cusp.

Boldly, I use both hands to spread the lips of my pussy. I rub up and down each side, applying pressure but denying myself by not touching my clit.

I rub and buck, moan and pant. I work myself into a frenzy until I’m on the edge, warmth and wetness percolating through my core.

“I’m close,” I breathe.

I want him to see it happen.

I want him to inch closer.

If I’m really, truly honest, I want him to touch me.

“Ty—” I pant as I press my fingers against my clit. I’m so slick with arousal I can’t even find a rhythm. All I can do is rub and circle and chase the pressure building between my thighs.

“So close,” I mutter again, the invitation for him to join me on the tip of my tongue.

He could sink two fingers into my cunt and send me into the stratosphere.