But he holds back, keeping that maddening distance.
"Play with your tits," he orders then sits back and begins stroking his cock again, his eyes raking over my body.
"Cole," I gasp, but my hands move to my breasts anyway.
"Do it," he says, his voice rough.
I hesitate for a moment, then slowly begin to touch myself, cupping and squeezing my breasts. I pinch the nipples lightly, just like he had earlier, and a wave of heat rushes through me.
He groans, pumping his hand faster.
"Fuck, baby. Just like that."
I can't take my eyes off him, his muscles rippling, his face tense with pleasure.
"Cole," I whisper.
"Yes?"
"Please."
"What do you want, Annie?"
"Cum for me," I plead, arching up, desperate for him to claim me again.
"Not yet," he growls, his cock swelling. "Remember that first night, Annie? The night I came to your room?"
"Yes," I gasp.
"What were you doing before I got there?"
My breath hitches, remembering. "I was thinking about you."
"Were you touching yourself, Annie?"
I can barely breathe, let alone speak, but the intensity of his gaze, the desperation in his voice, propels me forward.
"I was going to, yes," I whisper, the confession burning my cheeks.
"Tell me," he orders.
"I was thinking about you," I repeat, "about what it would be like if you were there, if you were touching me."
"Where was I touchingyou?"
"Everywhere," I moan, losing myself in the fantasy. "I was imagining you kissing me, touching me, fucking me."
"Show me," he whispers roughly.
I open my eyes wide at his command.
"Show me what you would've done if I hadn't knocked on your door," he says, eyes intense, slowly stroking his cock.
"Cole—"
"I'm not asking," he warns.
I hesitate for a second, the heat of his gaze almost too much to bear.