Page 48 of Look, Don't Touch

Far sooner than mine, her breathing is even. She’s a limp noodle on the bed, and that keeps the last stitch of my sanity connected. The longer I stay away from her, the more she cocks her ears. The quieter her breathing gets.

“Hey?” she whispers.

“Yes?” I whisper back, pinching the leather of my belt between my hands and possibly bruising my skin underneath.

“Please, take my blindfold off.” Her words are quiet. Her request is deafening.

My fingers go numb, my head spins, and at the same time, her beautiful form comes into stark focus.

I could walk over to her. I could pull the blindfold from her eyes. I could leave everything in her hands.

Before I complete the thought, my head shakes. I walk over to her, grab the small vibrator, turn it off, and toss it aside. She’s quiet, listening, waiting. I grab the larger one and press it between her legs at the mouth of her spitting cunt.

“Please,” she begs.

I give her what she wants more than the blindfold removed. I give her the vibrator, slipping it inside her one slow inch at a time. I work it to the hilt and can feel her heat on the side of my hand. It wouldn’t take much to touch her there. I want to. I want to bury my face between her legs and drink from her body. I want to dig my fingers into her wet, hot folds.

Instead, I turn on the big vibrator and work it inside her, stroking the big head across her G-spot over and over. Too soon, her hands are clutching. Her legs shaking. She’s panting, and her hips are pumping.

She screams her orgasm. What I wouldn’t give to record the sound. Though I’d never get anything done, and my cock would be raw.

“Please, take it off,” she pleads.

I turn on the vibrator and pump it into her at a maddening pace.

“Yes.” she sobs. “Oh God. Please. Fuck me. I want your cock. Please.”

She bows and shrieks. Tears seep out from behind the blindfold and slip down her cheek. Her belly convulses, and her cunt pulses around the vibrator for nearly a minute.

When I pull it out and turn it off, she goes limp. Her chest still heaves, and little hiccups accentuate them every once in a while.

I toss the tool to the side and move to the head of the bed. I lean over her and trace the outline of the blindfold.

“Please,” she weeps.

My finger slips down her cheek. I collect her river of tears and slip them into my mouth. She tastes salty and sweet. Then I leave while I still can.

I slip the envelope from my bag on my lap and hold it for the thousandth time in three weeks and five days. My gaze studies every last detail from the thick cream paper to the name scrawled on the front in handwritten letters. The name is mine. I’d seen my name written a hundred thousand times in my life, but this one is different. It strikes a chord like never before.

“Ms. Crouther will see you now,” Tonya, Astor’s assistant, chirps from behind the computer she’s clacking away on. I guess she does actual assistant duties beyond answering the phone when the mood strikes. Yet I wouldn’t trade Nat for the world.

I stand and hold the envelope close to my chest as I hurry into Astor’s richly decorated office. Where mine is warm and minimal, hers is reviving. She looks up at me from behind her desk with the biggest grin contorting her face.

“You trying out for the next Joker movie or what?”

“No.” She rounds the heavy oak furniture and waves me to the couch against the far wall, as though we haven’t a moment to spare. “I’m just thrilled that you’re here again. You usually do anything to get out of an in-person meeting, and you’ve been here three times in the past two weeks. Now, four.”

She sits in a tufted maroon chair, and I plop myself onto the cushy couch old-school-therapy style, lying and staring up at the ceiling.

“Do you want to take your coat off? Set your bag down?”

I shake my head and hug them close to me with the envelope still in my hand.

“What’s up, Hail?”

“I figured out who donated the million dollars.” I glare at a slight imperfection in the plasterwork above me.

“Oh my gosh.” She scoots to the edge of her seat. “Who is it?”

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