Page 28 of Where We Met

"What…" I start, but my voice breaks. I try again. "What would you do?"

His burning eyes have me waiting with bated breath.

"This is such dangerous territory right now, princess," he says, slightly shaking his head and looking away.

I'm so pent up from weeks of this energy crackling between us. I decide enough is enough, I need a release. Mustering all the courage I have, I wait until his eyes meet mine again and ask, "If we aren't technically touching each other, would it be so bad?"

I watch him bite his lip while he ponders my words. After what feels like an eternity, he smiles.

"I've been tortured here since we started talking, wondering what those tits look like underneath that small tank top. They’ve been peeking out of the top, teasing the fuck out of me. I want you to pull a strap down slowly until it exposes one of those beautiful breasts."

Holy. Shit.

I'm not sure I had even the slightest clue what I was asking for, but he is diving right in. This is clearly a man who has experience, nothing compared to what I've been exposed to. With one sentence, he’s already made my body feel like it's never felt before. It’s like there’s this electric current running through me making every part feel more sensitive than ever before—like a single touch could set me off.

I don't want this to end, I never want it to end, so I do as he says.

I rest my phone against the blanket, still lying on my side, and bring my hand up to my shoulder. My thumb and pointer finger grab onto the strap and slowly bring it down a couple inches. He watches intently as I let it slide off my shoulder completely.

I move my hand to the top of my tank and pull it down, exposing my right breast to him. Fuck, it feels so amazing to let this man see me like this.

"Fuuuck, princess. Look at your perfectly pink nipple. It's erect and begging to be sucked on. Pinch it for me, and tell me how it feels," he demands.

I obey his command and a small moan escapes me. It feels like he’s actually here doing this to me.

"It feels rough but perfect. I wish it were your hands on me," I cry. "I think about it all the time."

"More, beautiful. Show me more," he begs.

It's hot seeing him so worked up and knowing that I'm the reason for it.

"I need to see you," I say seductively as I continue to touch myself. "It's only fair, Professor Luke."

He gives me a stern look, and just when I think he’s going to stop after I reminded him of his position over me, he puts his hand on his chest and starts to caress it down his bare chest. His camera follows as it runs across the most beautiful chest and set of abs I've ever seen.

"You're playing with fire, Savannah,” he taunts.

My breath hitches. When he gets to the top of his gray sweatpants, he stops, leaving the camera on his stomach. I miss his face, but hell if I don't want to see what happens next.

"You get more when I get more, princess," he says, bringing my nickname back.

If anyone else tried to call me princess, I would throw a fit, but coming from him, it sounds endearing and sexy when used in this context.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask him.

"Touch yourself. Tell me if you're wet," he instructs.

I reposition my camera so my hips are in the shot, then slide my hand into my black sweatpants. My fingers slide straight into my entrance which is completely drenched.

"I'm soaked," I tell him, then bring my fingers up to my clit and start to rub.

The pressure is exactly what I need, working to curb the ache in me as I whimper in relief.

"I see your arm moving, rubbing yourself. Show me, princess. I want to see you give yourself this pleasure."

"You first," I request. "I want to see you touch yourself."

He grunts. "You want to see what you do to me? You have no idea, princess. My world has changed in the brief time since you've come into it. All I do is think of you. Whether I'm awake or asleep, my brain lives in a world filled with images of you."

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