Page 173 of Play Along

“You want me to fuck you?”

Hands palming my breasts, I lightly squeeze, needing hands on my body, even if they’re my own. “I thought that was obvious.”

His eyes are glued on my fingers as I tweak my nipples. He takes another slow sip. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me where you want me to fuck you.”

My cheeks go warm as he sits back for his own personal show, the fireworks exploding in light behind me.

My hands are still roaming over my breasts.

“Your perfect tits,” he says. “I’ll fuck those tonight. Anything else?”

I run a single hand down my stomach, letting my middle finger glide over my underwear, over my pussy, lightly teasing my clit.

“I can’t see what you’re touching, Ken.”

“I’m touching this.” Using the waistband at my hips, I pull my panties up tight, letting the fabric slip between my pussy, but still not showing him everything.

“Tease.”

My body feels his appreciative stare from across the room as it starts to move and sway on its own accord. His eyes are glued, focused on only me, not paying attention to the show just outside. No one has ever looked at me the way he does. I’ve never been worshiped the way he worships me. Have never had to question him because he’s so steadfast in his feelings for me.

I keep my panties on, but push them to the side.

“Lose them,” he says before taking another swig.

So, I do, right there in front of the window, I kick them off and leave myself fully naked while Isaiah stands across the room still fully clothed.

My fingers find my clit again, and his eyes bounce from mine to between my legs and back again. Smiling at me like he knows a secret, like he’s proud of me for standing naked and fingering myself for him.

“You love to do whatever I tell you to do when you’re like this, huh? Needy and desperate for it.”

My nod is frantic.

“Then put that finger inside that perfect cunt of yours and show me exactly where you want me to fuck you.”

So, I do, slipping my finger inside. Slowly at first, just to the first knuckle.

He shakes his head. “More.”

Second knuckle and it has me rocking into my hand with a whimper of a moan. My other hand grabs my tit and squeezes.

“Fuck.” It comes out like a breath of air before he throws back the rest of the drink, discards the empty glass by tossing it on the couch, and stalks across the room. In three predatory steps, he has me pinned to the window.

Ass cheeks pressed to the glass, and finger still in my pussy, I thrust in and out. It’s far too easy. I’m far too wet.

Isaiah watches between us, using his foot to nudge my legs apart. He uses a single index finger to glide up my inner thigh, gathering my arousal.

“Pretty,” he hums his approval, and just as I think he’s going to slip that finger into his own mouth, he instead presses it to the seam of mine. “Open.”

I do.

“You need to taste this for yourself, maybe then you’ll understand why I’m so far gone. You taste like fucking heaven.”

He guides his finger into my mouth, and I don’t hesitate to lick a long line before sucking myself off him.