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.