Page 94 of Threads That Bind Us
My jeans, with the belt still in the loops, are around my thighs in an instant, and all that separates me from the touch she’s ghosting over my thighs, my cock, my ass, are tight blackboxers being stretched to their limit. I could come from this feeling alone, from her touching and teasing, but I don’t lean into the feeling, biting back the flood of adrenaline.
“Fuck, Charlie, you’re so hard for me,” she breathes, running her nails lightly down my pulsing cock, forcing a whimper out of me that has her smiling. Her fingers hook my waistband and my breathing is erratic as she slips my boxers down.
Her hands, her lips, her breath against me is going to drive me insane. Soft kisses on my thighs, the back of her knuckles on the underside of my shaft. I can hear her muttering curses and exclamations under her breath, and I can see the hand now slipped between her thighs is moving in slow circles.
I’m about to ask out loud, like an idiot, if it’s truly possible for her to get this turned on by getting on her knees for me, when she carefully draws her hand from her jeans and sits back on her feet, holding her fingers out in front of her.
They’re dripping wet, evidence of her arousal coating her fingers and her palm, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to reach for her.
“Fuck, Gwen,” I choke out, because she leans forward and traces one slick finger on the underside of my cock, making me jolt. A soft laugh mingles with my groan in the cool summer air as she uses her arousal as lube, stroking me until my vision spots at the edges.
“So good for me, Charlie,” she murmurs, licking the taste of her own pussy off my cock.
I’m going to fucking die.
She doesn’t say anything else. She just keeps her eyes locked on mine as she slips her left hand back in between her thighs and wraps her mouth around the tip of my cock.
It’s possible that nothing has felt this good in my entire life. I would think I was having an out-of-body experience,watching Gwen fuck herself with her fingers with my cock in her mouth, if it wasn’t the waves of pleasure bordering on pain crashing over me. My nails are biting through the leather of the seat of the bike as I hold myself back from grasping her hair, touching her face.
She’s not hesitant, but exploratory, watching my face for any reaction to what she’s doing to me. The hand not fucking herself moves between grasping the base of my cock to cupping my balls to scratching my thigh, each change eliciting some unholy sound from me. She moves from licking to sucking, pumping me while her lips are tight at my crown to taking me deep into her throat.
I know I’m panting at her, begging for something that I can’t explain. To let me come, for her to come, for her to stop, for this never to end. Flush creeps down her cheeks and chest and her movements become less coordinated, spit dripping down her chin as her fingers move quickly against her clit. She’s moaning against my cock and I’m saying her name over and over again, drawing blood with how hard I’m biting the inside of my lip to keep myself from coming down her throat. It’s nearly fucking impossible when she takes me as far as she can, her free hand pulling my hip as close to her as possible, her throat constricting around my cock as she rocks her hips against herself.
She breaks apart with me down her throat in an image that will be replayed every time I have to spend a night away from her. Tears leaking down her face, breathing hard from her nose, her cries muffled against my cock that she’s still sucking. She lets the waves of her orgasm roll in and out as her movements become slower, more languid. And while I barely fucking staved off relief of my own, it feels like the edge has been taken off just a little watching her come.
She releases me from her mouth slowly, cleaning herself upas she does. I’d do it for her—Iwantto do it for her—but she hasn’t told me I can move yet. She stands as she pulls her fingers from herself, covered in the evidence of her orgasm.
“You did so fucking good for me, Charlie,” she praises, holding her glistening fingers out to me. “Go ahead.”
It’s all the permission I need to lean forward and suck her fingers into my mouth, tasting her like the gift she is. When I’m done, she leans forward and places a soft kiss on my lips, my cock brushing painfully against her stomach.
“Would you like to make me come now?” She asks, her voice warm and satisfied, but still carrying a note of anticipation.
“Please, yes, please,” I chant, the sweet pain of restraining myself from coming pulsing through me. I pull my boxers and jeans back up, leaving the belt undone, and she switches our positions so she’s leaning against the bike now.
“You’re going to make me come with your fingers,” she says, slipping off her shoes and shimmying down her jeans. “Justyour fingers, Charlie. Not your mouth. And when you do, I’ll let you bend me over this bike and fuck me.”
I’m on my knees in front of her before she even has to ask. Her ass, barely covered by her plain black underwear, slides up so she’s leaning on the seat of the motorcycle. Her knees fall open, and I trace her calves, her thighs, her ankles, every inch of skin I can, with a featherlight touch.
She’s already so wet, the fabric of her underwear damp as I ghost over her. Each little touch has her letting out a soft sigh, her legs twitching slightly when I touch the sensitive spot behind her knee.
I pick up one of her legs and drape it over my shoulder, opening her up for me further. I adjust, finding the right angle to continue teasing her. Without thinking, I press a kiss into her thigh as I put pressure on her clit.
Her hands are in my hair immediately, yanking me away from her.
“What did I say? Fingers only.” Her voice is tight with desire, and I circle my thumb over her clit again. Her head tilts back on a moan.
“You said I could only make you come with my fingers. My mouth isn’t anywhere near your perfect cunt,” I say, getting as close to her as I can without actually licking her skin, which is what I desperately want to do.
“Every way you touch me gets me closer to coming, Charlie,” she pants, and I’m nearly delirious with how incredible those words make me feel. “So, hands only.”
I nod, pulling back and tracing her pussy over her underwear again and again. Soft moans fill the air around us, as I work closer to her clit on every circle.
Right before I reach where I know she wants me, I pull the fabric covering her to the side and slip two fingers inside her. She cries out my name, and I keep my other hand gripped on her knee to stop myself from stroking my cock while she screams for me.
She’s so fucking gorgeous, the foot still on the floor to balance her lifted onto her toes, her back arched and her head tipped toward the sky. I desperately want her bare in front of me on this bike, freckled skin and perfect pink nipples on display for me as she rides my hand.
She’s so wet, and it’s easy to slip a third finger in, arching them against her g-spot with every thrust. She’s so close, her pussy clamping around me, and I lean forward to suck her clit, desperate to see her come.