Page 26 of Thirst Trap
Or maybe it’s the way Jake is looking at me. His eyes are heavy, hungry, like he could eat me up. Or possibly lick me half to death again. The thought of his mouth on me again sends a little curl of pleasure through my stomach. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore how wet he makes me, even from a hundred-some miles away.
A muscle tics in his jaw as he watches me. “You’re squirming, sweetness. You all right?”
“Yes.” I try to sound convincing, but my voice sounds wobbly. “You’re still wearing your shirt, that’s not fair.”
Jake smirks at me, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning into the camera. “Then tell me what you want, Whitley.”
Oh, jeez. I have to say it?
“Take off your shirt.” I breathe.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jake’s drawl thickens as he watches me roll my nipple between my fingers. He mutters a soft curse under his breath as he sits up. He reaches one arm back behind his head, the muscles bunching in his bicep as he grabs the back of his T-shirt and pulls it off over his head in one fluid motion.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” I moan quietly. He’s every inch as sexy as I remember. His abs flex as he reclines back on his elbow, and as he does, I can see the thick outline of his erection straining against the front of his sweatpants.
“Are you… Oh,” I say awkwardly. Duh. He’s definitely turned on. But that’s kind of a given since I have my boobs out.
Jake lifts an eyebrow, smiling wryly at my wide-eyed expression. He presses a palm against the front of his sweatpants.
“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, Whitley. You’re making my situation… difficult.”
“Were you going to say ‘hard’?” I ask with a laugh. Jake shrugs, grinning at me shamelessly.
I bite my lip, trying to be bold. “Maybe I want to make your situationhard.”
“Take off the shorts.” Jake’s deep command rumbles over me, sending a little shiver up my spine.
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” I admit, my eyes following the movement of his hand. He’s given up trying to suppress his hard-on, and now his fingers are tracing the length slowly, deliberately, and the sight seems to steal the air from my room.
“Good,” he growls. “Take them off. I want to see what I’ve been missing.”
“Okay.” I laugh nervously. “Hang on.” I prop my phone against a pillow, adjusting the angle. Jake watches me, his lips parted and eyelids heavy with lust as I slip my thumbs under the elastic of my sleep shorts, sliding them down my hips slowly. My heart races as I get them down my thighs. I’ve never done this, and I’m shaking with adrenaline. I can’t even tell if it’s nerves or excitement at this point.
“Good girl,” he says, his hand continuing to stroke his length. “Spread your legs. Show me how wet you are.”
I do as he says, allowing my finger to find my center. “So wet. Now show me your cock.”
Did I just say that? Who is this woman? Certainly not prim and proper Whitley McAvoy, who didn’t let a boy feel her up until college.
I continue to coat my fingers in my wetness as Jake quickly strips off his sweatpants and boxer briefs. His cock springs free, and he quickly takes it back in his hand, stroking it faster than before.
“Fuck, Whitley,” he says, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m not going to last. You look so fucking hot.”
“I want to come Jake; make me come.”
My fingers find my clit, and I rub it furiously, aching for release. It’s too much right now. The feeling of my hands touching myself, the dirty words we are saying to each other, the sight of him pleasuring himself because of me… it’s all too much.
“See this cock, Whitley? Remember how it fucked you? How it made you scream?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly, my hands now rubbing at my center furiously.
“Scream for me, sweetness. Scream for me now.”
The sound of his dirty words is enough to send me over the edge. My core clenches, and just like that, I explode on my hand.
“Oh fuck! Whitley!”
I hear Jake’s groan as I ride the wave of my orgasm.
