Page 93 of Ruthless Scoundrel
“It feels warm, like silky fire spreading through me,” she says, her voice tinged with pleasure.
“More,” I groan, thrusting into my fist and groping her breast in time.
“It’s sharp, my focus here. Control. My muscles are tight. They want to burst, but I’m so wound up,” she says, and I feel her words deep in me.
“Don’t try to control. Just feel,” I whisper, my arousal spreading down my shaft with every pump of my hips.
“I don’t know how,” she whimpers, her legs shaking. But I know she knows how. I made her feel and forget on the beach. I can do it for her again.
“Listen to me,” I say, tightening my grip on her breast. “Move in the ways most pleasing, and when you find the rhythm, don’t stop, don’t hold back. Focus on that feeling and ride it like a wave to the shore.”
We pant, progressing as one, thrusting and pleasuring ourselves together.
“Have you found it? Your wave?” I ask, keeping myself well beyond the edge as I wait for her.
“No,” she whimpers helplessly.
I need to try something different. “Did you like my mouth?”
She breathes harder. “Yes.”
Just envisioning that night puts me even closer to release, but I have to hold back, hold on for her. Not before her. Never before her.
“What did you like?”
“You…moved your tongue side to side over my…my clit,” she whispers.
Clit. Not a word I was taught. She must mean her little pleasure pearl. Perfect, now I know what to call it.
“Move your fingers over your clit in the same way.”
She lifts her hips but I can tell by the sound her arm makes against the blanket that she’s not doing as I’ve told her.
Little brat.
“Do it. Now,” I command, and she moans.
Her movements shift and her sounds get louder. I ease into her, relishing it. She’s learning how to self-pleasure through me, and I can’t deny that it brings me so much satisfaction.
Almost too much.
“What else did you like about what I did?”
“Inside me,” she keens. “You stuck your tongue inside.”
“Put a finger inside that tight heat,” I say, pushing my face deeper into her hair and my dick harder into my fist.
She does, and the sound she utters is so rewarding I might come apart.
“Now explore. Find that spot that makes the sky open and the stars shine,” I say, trying not to let myself slip over into oblivion without her.
I flick her nipple between my fingers, loving the extra mewls I get out of her. I pluck, circle, slide, and pinch, seeking her pleasure through the noises she makes. Each time I find something she likes, I focus on it for several seconds before moving on.
“Don’t stop talking,” she moans, her hand moving faster.
Fuck. What else do I say?
“Let the heat build in you until it’s not soft anymore, until it feels like it’s going to burst out of you. Until it’s filling up your lungs and begging to become a sound that will make the world tremble.”
