Page 27 of Lost Touch

“You need this, and I want to,” I said, a lot less confidently and a lot breathier, like someone auditioning for a really bad porno. But I had to get through to him. If I couldn’t reach the real Drew, I could at least talk to the part of him in control right now. And that feral side of him would want me to submit, wouldn’t it? I could do that, be that for him, if it helped him. “Let go of my arm, Drew. Don’t do anything. Let me. You’re not going to hurt me. Because I’m giving you what you need. Right? You don’t need to take anything. I want to do this.”

I stroked his shoulder with my other hand, gently, soothing and coaxing him. Showing him that I wasn’t fighting this, wasn’t fightinghim.

And Drew relaxed under me. Not a lot, not completely. But enough that his fingers weren’t digging into my wrist anymore.

He kept hold of me but didn’t try to stop me as I tugged the string on his shorts, undoing the knot, and then carefully pulled the waistband down.

I didn’t need to pull it down much. His straining cock popped out the top, the head flushed red and shining.

I swallowed hard.

God, it really did grow.

I gave the waistband another pull, baring a couple more inches. Drew lifted his hips, letting out a harsh little growl that sounded more like frustration than a threat. I took the hint and tugged his shorts down as much as I could.

Now I knew that Drew went commando under those gym shorts.

And that he had more than enough for two of my hands to…handle.

My grip on his shoulder turned punishing as my nerves ratcheted up. Drew didn’t flinch, and when I tore my eyes away from his thick cock, I found his fixed on my face. Our eyes met for a long moment, and I had the urge to duck my head—but I couldn’t, like he’d caught me.

Weren’t you not supposed to make eye contact with predators? Did it make a difference when you were already planning to jerk off the predator and let him come all over you?

“Ash,” he growled, and tightened his grip on my wrist again, moving my hand over and putting it exactly where he wanted it.

Well, I could take a hint.

I wrapped my hand around his shaft, hot silky flesh against my palm and throbbing in my fingers.

Drew’s head fell back and he groaned, low and helpless, his hips stuttering up to press his cock against my hand. Once he looked away, I could too, the spell broken.

The sight of my hand on his cock sent something like a thrill through me. Yeah, maybe I was any port in a storm, but right now…right now he wanted me more than anything. He was desperate. And he might be a predator who could tear me apart in seconds—but he’d put himself at my mercy. Sort of. As long as I did what he wanted.

It felt like a dance, maybe a tango, all dangerous undercurrents and careful steps. If I stumbled, I might lose control completely.

That made the thrill even better, somehow.

And for once, amnesiac and lost as I’d been, I knew what the next step should be.

I tightened my grip, stroking up, running my thumb over his swollen cockhead. And then down, squeezing and sliding, my fingers not even wrapping all the way around as I reached the base of his cock. It felt completely new. I couldn’t remember ever doing this to myself, let alone someone else—and for all I knew, I’d never touched another man’s dick before today. I couldn’t remember what felt good, what would bring him to orgasm.

It didn’t seem to matter, because Drew’s cock stiffened further in my hand, and he started to fuck up into my fist, his arm sliding all the way around my waist and crushing me against his chest. God, he smelled good, all warm and spicy with a hint of the wild forest he’d been running in, and I buried my face in his shoulder and stroked him off as fast and hard as I could. His gasps and groans transmitted to me through his chest as much as to my ears. Maybe I couldn’t experience pleasure myself, but I could feel his: tension and heat and the mounting anticipation. My own breath started to come faster, hitching on every upstroke.

Drew didn’t guide my hand with his on my wrist, but he never let go of me, and it made me feel like I couldn’t possibly do it wrong, like he had me as much as I had him.

And a little bit like a sex toy, something he was using to get himself off.

Drew’s sex toy.His.

The muscles in my abdomen clenched, hard, and I knew it should’ve felt good but itdidn’t, and the combination of Drew’s thick cock in my hand and his body surrounding mine and the frustration—the need for something I couldn’t have—had me moaning helplessly into his shoulder.

Drew’s fingers spasmed on my waist and around my wrist, and then he was coming, wet heat dripping over my hand and his cock twitching in my grip.

He didn’t let go of me, holding me close as he came down from it, his harsh, uneven breaths panting in my ear. I kept my eyes closed and my face pressed into him.

When I looked, this might be over.

And I wanted this moment of repletion and heat and closeness to last, since I couldn’t have anything else.

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