Page 126 of Let the Game Begin

“I like it best right here.” He glided my hand to bottom of his glans and encouraged me to move my fingers over that sensitive area.

Despite all of this, Neil was breathing in a slow and controlled fashion, so I had no idea whether he liked what I was doing. I decided not to worry about that and simply mimic his movements, delighting in the incredible sensation of trying to stroke him off.

I really liked touching him.

“Never make the mistake of forgetting about these.” He guided my hand lower, specifically to his swollen testicles and I gasped. “Focus on this area.” He used my index finger and made me rub the crease that ran down the center, sliding up and back down slowly.

Neil breathed in deep and then exhaled, bathing my face in his hot breath. Then, he slipped his hand away from mine and urged me to keep going by myself

“Every man has his own preferences. You’re learning what I like and how I like it,” he informed me. “The way to a man’s heart is through his cock. You want to get at my soul? Touchmethe way I like,” he concluded with a brash grin that made me blush. I supposed that this constituted a romantic statement for him.

Either way, I concentrated on trying to move my hand the way he’dtaught me as we lay facing each other. My breasts were pressed against his chest and our bodies stuck fast to each other. Neil began to touch me, fondling my breast, rubbing a thumb over my nipple. I moaned timidly, not sure if he was trying to arouse me or himself. He smiled and clasped his hand over mine again, pushing me to speed up my strokes.

“I’ll never come like this. You need to work harder, Tinkerbell.” He moved his hand back to my face and stroked my cheek this time before leaning in to kiss me.

He didn’t ask for my permission; he demanded contact between our lips as he bucked his hips against my fist.

Despite that, Neil didn’t pant; he didn’t moan. He was completely silent. It made it difficult to know whether he was really engaged with what was happening, and more importantly, how much he was enjoying it. I applied myself—truly applied myself—even if performing this kind of foreplay on Neil wasn’t easy, considering how long it took him to reach orgasm and how unused I was to doing this kind of thing for a man.

Occasionally, I would pause and rub him with my open hand just to get a break. I hoped, in those moments, to see him more fully engaged. I stretched my hand down to his testicles and fondled them. They felt slippery under my hand but also tightly contracted. I glided my hand up his erection again, hard as a steel blade, then I alternated those movements several more times.

Neil, however, seemed to remain unmoved, and for a moment, I thought I wasn’t doing it right. Plus, my wrist had begun to hurt as well as the muscles in my arm. I quit kissing his mouth and refocused my attentions on his neck, licking and nibbling it. At the same time, my hand moved back to his testicles, tugging them absently downward.

“Yes. Good job,” he murmured, closing his eyes, and for the first time, I heard his hoarse, aroused voice. Apparently this movement was good for him?

So I repeated it, and Neil pushed his pelvis against my hand, wordlessly commending my initiative.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Faster, now,” he suggested, letting his head fall back against the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. I gripped his erectionfirmly and gave it fast, rhythmic strokes right against his favorite spot. I had now memorized the things that gave him pleasure, and the rush of power that gave me was incredible.

I slid my thumb over the long slit at the head of his glans. I collected a pearlescent bead of liquid from the tip and thrilled at the idea of him getting wet like that.

“Precum. It means I’m almost there, Babygirl.” The rumble of his baritone made me flush. The idea of him seemingly being able to read my mind and confirm my ideas was currently very appealing to me. Neil parted his lips and bit the bottom one. His body went rigid and his testicles seemed to harden and it looked to me like he was being entirely undone by pleasure. It was a marvelous spectacle, and I was the sole spectator.

It didn’t matter how many there had been before me or how many there might be after; in that moment, Neil was experiencing this pleasure exclusively thanks tome.

He was still contained, he didn’t make a sound, but the increase in his breathing told me he was likely close to orgasm.

“You’re beautiful when you’re aroused,” I blurted out and his eyes snapped open, focusing on my hand. His golden gaze lit up with desire, even brighter than usual.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his attention, and I nodded before approaching his lips with my own.

“Yeah,” I confirmed and kissed him. He slipped his hand into my hair and welcomed my tongue as it passionately pursued his own until I was breathless.

On instinct, I bit down on his full lips for no reason but that they were fantastic. They felt hot and swollen between my teeth. It was one of those moments that could never be measured with a clock but only in the beats of our hearts as our mouths and limbs were intertwined.

Neil broke the kiss, exhaling on my lips and resting his forehead against mine. Then he swiftly yanked his fleece over his torso so as not to get it dirty just as he exploded in hot spurts against my hand and his own lower abdomen. He tightened his abs as the spasms hit him, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then, that muscled chest heaved breathlessly while his forehead brokeout into a slight sweat. His cheeks and neck had reddened, and his mouth was swollen and moist.

“That was… I mean… It was—” He didn’t let me finish. Instead, he opened his eyes and kissed me again.

His kiss was crude, all domination and control. His kiss left no room to breathe and he moved his tongue in my mouth so fast and so deeply that it was impossible for me to match him.

“You did good, but you have no idea how much I want your lips wrapped around me,” he murmured, and a nanosecond later, I found myself straddling him. I didn’t care that his cum would get on my jeans. I didn’t care about anything other than the need to feel him more fully.

His hands on my hips coaxed me to rock my pelvis against him while our lips continued to communicate in a new language, all their own.

Kissing him was like finally quenching my thirst in a vast, burning desert, and I wanted to suck every last drop him from. His bare erection chafing between my thighs encouraged me to rock more violently. Suddenly, I pulled away from his lips and lifted myself up, putting my hands on his pectoral muscles. His fingers glided over the fabric of my sweater, and I wanted to touch every part of him, but then something shifted in his gaze.