Page 63 of All That Glitters
My cock bobbed between us, hardening moment by moment. Her gaze flicked up to my face, then down. I didn’t have to touch myself. I didn’t have to do anything more than watch her for the ache to begin, for my balls to fill.
In the weeks before the race last summer, I’d spent more time with the car, in the simulator, in the gym, and on the computer watching previous races than I had fucking around. I’d had a taste of being a champion. I wanted it again. I was chasing it again.
At the same time, I hadn’t exactly been celibate, either.
Back then, bedding Helen had never crossed my mind. Not that she wasn’t beautiful because she was one of the most beautiful women I knew. And not that she wasn’t sexy or desirable because she was definitely those things and more. But bedding Helen Troye would’ve fucked up our friendship, would’ve hurt my friendship with Hale.
None of that mattered now.
Bridges were lit and they’d be burned to the ground.
“Ashton…”
Desire flared in her eyes as she looked up at me. It flushed her body red, hardened her nipples, and if I touched her pussy I knew I’d find her as soaking wet as she’d been earlier. “Do you want to beg for it, Helen?” I asked, smiling as I witnessed desire turn to defiance and into disappointment.
“Fuck you.”
“I think that’s exactly what you want.”
She started to stand, but a hand on her shoulder held her on her knees, held her in place as I wrapped my other palm around my cock.
I pumped it in long, steady strokes, pulling pre-cum from the head with each push under it.
Her body was rigid, at least, it had been. With each drop that formed on the tip then slid down to coat my fingers, she relaxed, she softened. Need took hold of her again and she licked her lips, swaying forward, but she caught herself and settled back, watching.
I hadn’t given her permission to lick me, touch me.
Not that I would have minded. I would’ve been more than happy to feel her tongue, her mouth on me. I was happy this way, too, though, and I was going to be ecstatic in a few seconds when I exploded.
I couldn’t remember anyone ever making me as hard as Helen. I’d walked around with a perpetual hard-on since I decided last night that this was how I was going to get back at Hale. That I was going to use his sister. From that moment, my cock had been a ready and willing participant.
She licked her pretty lips. Once, twice, three times… Her pink tongue teased me and I focused on it, kept my gaze on it, imagined the feel of it on my hard cock, the sensitive head, the long length, the tightness of the base, the fullness of my nuts.
My cum covered her face. She was shocked, surprised, and started to jerk back, but my free hand fisted her hair and held her still for every rope, every spurt, every sticky glob…
Jesus fucking Christ, I was a bastard of epic proportions.
I couldn’t quite believe I’d done that to her. And I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she would let me. She had feelings for me, yes, but…
There was shock in those eyes of hers that stared up at me. Defiance, too.
She was still fucking beautiful, even covered and dripping with my release. Maybe more so.
When I was finished and my hold eased, a withering, even sad shadow crossed her face. She stood gracefully and turned away.
“Down the hall. Third door on the left,” I reminded her.
She didn’t have to ask, didn't have to say a word. She walked with measured steps, her curves shifting from side to side, as she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
“Shit.”
I eased myself back into my jeans, walked outside to gather her clothes and purse from the sandy drive. I took them down the hall, set them outside the bathroom, knocked once and left before she could answer.
I grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and waited.
The cottage had always been well stocked when we were growing up and definitely now that I’d taken up residence on a more permanent basis. There were memories in this cottage of my friends and me, my great-grandfather’s sketchbooks and model cars were in the small room he’d used for a study. Books on racing, as far back as car racing went. Some other Glitterati family things were stored in that room as well. I felt closer to my roots in this cottage that I did in my parents’ house, closer to my roots than anytime we visited Italy where our family was from. No, this small cottage felt… It felt like home.
Much like…
