Page 98 of Play Along

“And that...” He whimpers against my neck, the desperate sound sending a pulse straight to my clit. “That is what I want most.”

I didn’t know I could have this effect on someone. On him.

The man is experienced, and this is just a little touching, a little exploring.

“Your hand,” he grits out. “Goddamn, I’ve been dreaming of it, Kenny. Of your mouth. Of your fucking pussy. I bet it’s as perfect as the rest of you, isn’t it?”

Isaiah thrusts into my hand, looking for friction, and it’s when he runs his entire length through my fist that I feel exactly what kind of size he’s working with.

Jesus.

“Does that feel good?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, his voice strained as he desperately pushes into my hand again. “I’m hard as a fucking rock for you and you know it. You can feel it.”

My cheeks burn, but I can’t seem to stop myself from telling him, “I’ve never really had the opportunity to ask, so I just want to make sure I’m doing what you like.”

He halts his movements, holding his hips steady, but doesn’t ask any probing, embarrassing questions. Lifting his head away from my shoulder, he looks at me, those curious brown eyes watching and reading, but not in a way that makes me feel silly or inexperienced.

“I’ve never really talked this kind of stuff through,” I continue. “Never had someone I could communicate with.”

“Well, you’re fucking perfect on your first go, Kenny.” He meets my hand in pace. “Of course you are.”

“But tell me what I can do to make it better for you. I want to learn.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at me because I can’t help but want to be the best. And yes, apparently that means at giving hand jobs too.

“You could grip a little tighter if you want.”

I do exactly that. “What else?”

“I like it when you give the head a little attention.”

I circle my thumb again, spreading the moisture over the tip before coating my fist in it and running it down his shaft.

“Mmm,” he moans. “That’s it, baby.”

Isaiah’s body is tense, his breathing shallow. He sounds like he’s close, but it’s far too soon. I don’t want this to end just yet.

As much as I love touching him, I want him to touch me.

Reading my mind, he throws his hand over mine to stop me. “I’m going to come too fast, and I really need to make you feel as good as you’re making me.” His lips softly meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Kenny?”

My answer is a far too eager head nod matched by his soft eyes and boyish smile as I remove my hand from his sweatpants.

He cups my ass, pulling me flush to him. His fingers toy with the seam of my leggings, achingly close to the spot I need them most, as his lips trail down my throat, my collarbone, my chest, tongue darting out to lick over the fabric of my bralette.

“Oh,” I exhale when his tongue flicks over the lace, creating this delicious friction on my stiff nipple. “Okay, I like that.”

His silent chuckle rumbles against me as he does it again, this time closing his mouth over the peak.

Fuck.

“These need to go.” He snaps the elastic material against my skin before slipping a hand under the waistband, curving over my ass, squeezing me in his palm.

My body freezes with a moment of hesitation.

He rolls me onto my back, licking and kissing a path down my stomach. “Tell me to stop, Ken.”

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