Page 114 of The Boyfriend Goal

His curled palm slides down to the base, then back up. My body clenches. He coasts his fist over the head, pushing out a drop. My mouth waters. I want that drop so badly on my tongue. His eyes are closed. His lips are parted. His chest, rising and falling. He’s pretending he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m pretending we’re not yet together.

Then I hear a noise that lights me up. A rasp rumbling its way up his chest. It’s the sound of an American muscle car hurtling down a road. With a groan, he grips his cock harder and I stare wantonly, like a voyeur.

He shuttles his fist along his length, the rhythm picking up, the pace increasing, his grunts growing louder. Then, low and guttural as he murmurs a strangled, “Josie.”

I gasp. My legs are shaking, and my panties are soaked. I am outrageously wet.

To watch him get off in front of me is better than any porn I’ve ever seen. The man I want is touching himself while thinking of me.

Pleasure pools low in my belly, and I could honestly probably come from watching him. Like a dream orgasm, the kind that crashes over you in your sleep.

On an upstroke, his eyes float open. He blinks, locks his gaze to mine like a sniper. Doesn’t say a word. Takes a long, lazy stroke, pointing his cock my way. Like he’s saying he’s caught me. “You like to watch?”

I nod, unsure if I can even speak at this moment. My throat is dry with desire.

He stops his strokes though. I whimper.

“You want to keep watching?”

I find words this time, needing them, I sense, for the show to go on. “Yes. Please.”

Crooking his fingers, he beckons for me to come closer. I cross the room, climb up, and kneel on the foot of the bed.

“Ready?” he asks.

“So ready.”

He grips his cock again. I stare hungrily. He jerks harder. “Ever watched me before?” It’s borderline confrontational. A man cross-examining me.

I shake my head no, then confess, “I’ve only imagined it.”

“How do you want me to finish? In my hand? On your tits?” The questions are aggressive too, spiking my arousal as he goes on. “In your mouth? On your back?”

This part wasn’t scripted, but the image of him spilling his release on my body and rubbing it into me with his palm has me gasping and crying out. “My back, please. All over me.”

“Bet your sweet little pussy is soaked,” he observes, pumping his cock harder as I stare, mesmerized.

“It is,” I say, desperate for relief.

“Bet it’s fucking dripping down your thighs.”

My core throbs. “Feels that way.”

He tips his chin carelessly at me. “Show me. Take those panties off.”

I remove them quickly, but before I can drop them on the bed he reaches out a hand, asking for them. I give them to him without a clue what he’s going to do next. He turns them inside out and grips his cock with the damp panel of my cotton panties.

My mind short-circuits. The sight of him spreading my wetness along his dick has me moaning uncontrollably.

I didn’t know that was something I desired until this very moment—him pleasuring himself with my wet panties. It’s so dirty, and it turns me on beyond belief.

“So much better,” he says in a haze, stroking faster with the fabric till he stops abruptly. “You know what would be even better?”

I’m lost in a sex trance and can only shake my head.

“If you sat on my face right now.”

Dropping the panties, he reaches for me, then grabs my hips. Quickly, I take off my glasses before he pulls me down onto his face. He’s not gentle—he’s hungry and horny as he French kisses my pussy. But I’m wearing a long jersey that’s covering the view of his face, so I grab the hem, and loop it through the neck like a halter top tied off, exposing my belly.

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