Page 53 of Warmer, Colder

“Ride it.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “Grind down,” I apply pressure that forces her body against me, and she gasps, “it’ll stimulate your clit.”

Becca remains stiff with hesitation, but I’m not giving up so easily.

“You’re going to make yourself come. I want my leg soaking wet when you’re done.”

Shyness creeps back in as she rests her palms on my shoulder. The weight of her hands makes me remember mine and I tug them from her waist, placing them behind me and leaning back. I want to watch the show, but I refuse to touch her,really touch her, until I know she won’t regret it. Until she needs it so much, she’ll never think of the way it felt when anyone else touched her, especially nothim.

When she rolls her hips, we both let out a gasp. Her at the pleasure, me at the evidence of how wet I’ve made her.How wet she’s made herself. She can deny her attraction to me all she wants, but her body tells me everything I need to know.

The silence is thick as she grinds down on me experimentally.

“That’s not all you want, is it? A little friction to take the edge off?”

“N-no.” She stutters, still resisting the temptation to really take what she wants.

“Then ride me, Becca. Take your pleasure. You said you wanted to own your sexuality, so own it. Show me what you like. Make. Yourself. Come. I won’t tell you again.”

Using my shoulders as leverage, she grinds down on me again and again. My leg becomes slippery as that sweet pussy drips onto me.

“How does it feel, Crybaby?” My nails are sure to tear holes through the comforter with how tightly I’m gripping the fabric.

She doesn’t even object to the nickname, so caught up in the movement of her body against mine. “It feels so good. Oh, god.”

“Your pussy is fucking dripping. Are you having fun making a mess all over me?”

“Ye-yes.” Her words are clipped and breathy.

“You’re getting close. Are you going to come on me? Hmm, Crybaby Girl?”

Her cheeks redden and she shakes her head back and forth.

“Yes you are.”

“I can’t. Not while you’re watching me.” She attempts to back off my knee, but I grab her around her waist.

“Fine, but I’m not done playing with you yet. Can we try something else?” Becca nods. “Stand up.” She does and I kneel on the ground and then lay flat on my stomach, pulling my skirt up to expose my ass cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t sneak a look at my ass every chance you get.” I tap it, and hunger enters her eyes. “Sit down.” I spread my legs just slightly, giving her space to put one leg on each side of my thigh.

“Umm, what do you expect me to do exactly?”

Propping myself up on my elbows, I look over my shoulder at her as she gets down on her knees and straddles me. Her hands hover awkwardly, fingers spread as they gravitate towards my cheeks, but her nervousness is holding her back from doing exactly what she wants.

“We’re going to pick up right where we left off. Just like you were riding my thigh, you’re going to use my body to get you off.”

“I can’t do this.” Her words and her body language don’t match as her pretty pink nipples harden once again.

“You can.You will. You’re not giving up? Are you Becca?”

Her punishing grip takes hold of each of my sides, and she lowers herself against me.

I suppress a groan as her wet pussy makes contact with my bare skin. “See, Crybaby. There’s no denying how badly you want me anymore, so just take it.” A moan escapes me with the first roll of her hips. Her slick cunt drags across my upper thigh and the curve of my ass. My toes curl as she picks up her pace. Carefully, I sneak a peek at her as she grinds against me, her eyes purposely focused anywhere but my face. I’m tempted to touch myself, but it would probably ruin the moment if I did attempt it. The last thing I want to do is distract her from the beautiful show she’s putting on for me.

The whimper she releases, as she speeds up her movements, sends a flood of arousal between my legs. Watching her get satisfaction from my body is something I’d only dreamed of experiencing. “Come on, Becca, you’re almost there.” Each thrust of her slender hips brings her closer and closer.

“Oh, ah—” The smooth-riding she’s been doing turns to jerky movements. “I think, I think I’m going—” Fear has that last word in a vice grip like she might try to stop it.

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