Page 32 of Very Unlikely
There’s no doubt it is time for me to yank back on the reins when Lennox murmurs, “Touch yourself.”
“I’m not touching myself, especially with your drunk ass sitting front and center.”
My springboard off his thrusting chest gets me a good foot away from him, but he bridges that and more when he tugs me back down the bed. “You either do it, or I will.”
There’s no dangerous edge to his words.
I don’t in any way feel threatened.
He’s merely so desperate to ease the tension between us, he’s willing to offer up his services to do so, and it’s proven without a doubt when he mutters, “You need to take care of the buzz before it swallows you fucking whole, Cocoa. I do every morning in the shower, so why the hell have you held back for so long?” Before I can answer him, much less re-imagine how wonderous the visual of him stroking his cock would be, I realize he’s more summarizing than asking a question. “Because you don’t know what you’re doing.” He locks his eyes with mine over my chest that suddenly feels double its weight. “I do, and I can use those skills to show you how to get yourself off.” The brisk shake of my head slackens when he mutters, “I’m also not drunk. I knowexactlywhat I’m doing.” After backing up his assurance by pulling out the bedding from beneath my backside to give me the coverage I’m desperately craving, he adds, “Let me do this for you, Sum. Let me even the benefits of our friendship. It’s the least I can do since it’s your face I imagine every morning while I’m stroking one out.”
Say what now?
“You think about me while… touching yourself?”
“Fuck, yes,” he replies without pause for thought, his eagerness doubling the intense tingles in the lower half of my body. “And every second morning at a minimum for years.”
Years?
I begin to wonder if I expressed my inner monologue out loud again when Lennox bobs his chin while muttering. “Every fucking time. Now I want to help you do the same. Let me do this, Sum. Let me help you.”
He waits and waits and waits for me to dip my chin, and when I do, the smile that stretches across his face convinces me that his lesson will be short. I’m on the verge of climax, and I haven’t even slipped my hand inside my panties yet as per his request two seconds later.
“To start with, be gentle. Learn what you like and how fast you like it.”
I wet my lips before sheepishly nodding, then slip my hand inside the cotton material of my panties. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to bring myself to climax, so the wetness that graces my fingertips doesn’t feel foreign. It’s just the fact I’m doing it under Lennox’s watchful gaze that is confronting. Usually, his bright eyes and chiseled jaw don’t enter the frame until I close my eyes. Today, they’re front and center.
“When your pussy starts contracting, switch the fingers on your clit with your thumb, then lower the same fingers to the opening of your vagina.”
The huskiness associated with his words has me complying with his suggestion earlier than predicted. The buzz ripping from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes is extremely strong. So much so, I soon forget Lennox is coaching me and pretend he’s enjoying this as much as me.
The hitching of his voice when I moan makes it easy, much less what he says next, “Now insert one finger. Slowly, Summer,” he tacks on when I race to fulfill his every demand. “We don’t want the show over before it’s truly begun.”
His ‘we’ comment scissors my legs so effectively, the bedding slips away from my shuddering thighs without a single protest firing through my head. I’m still covered by my panties and Lennox’s Morrison training shirt, but the movement of my hand as I slowly thrust a finger in and out of my pussy is most likely giving Lennox an upfront visual of the now silky-smooth skin of my sex.
“Can you feel the tension building, Sum? The tightening in the lower half of your stomach?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmur, too caught up in the blistering warmth surging through my veins to form coherent sentences, much less care that I’m exposing myself to my best friend.
After scooting so close I can use his pouty lips as inspiration, Lennox says, “Now let’s see how good you are at multitasking. While continuing to finger-fuck your visually enticing cunt, roll a thumb over your clit like my tongue is licking the needy bud.”
The crudeness of his suggestion doubles the shake of my thighs. It also adds an extreme tingle to the lower half of my body. I finger-fuck myself like it’s a perfectly natural thing to do in front of myonlymale friend while pretending the panted breaths hitting my throbbing sex is because he’s seconds away from devouring me.
It’s a vicious cycle that grows more savage when Lennox exposes his wish for me to climax is as strong as the current surging through my veins. “Flick your clit harder, Summer. Bring it to the point it’s aching to find release.”
“I am,” I breathe out, equally smitten and frustrated by the pressure in the lower half of my stomach. It’s so strong, I’m on the verge of freefalling over a cliff, but for some strange reason, no matter how hard I circle my clit while pumping a finger in and out of myself, the topple into orgasmic bliss never occurs. “It just won’t come. I must be broken.”
“You’re not broken. You are just too fucking stubborn to give in to a tension years in the making. Try harder.”
“I’m doing everything you asked. My palm is drenched in my arousal, my clit is throbbing, but I can’t get myself over the edge. I need more. I need…” I stop before I say something I can’t take back.
Lennox will never let me off so lightly, though. “What, Summer? What do you need?” he asks with his eyes locked on mine instead of the damp material of my panties he’s been ogling the past ten minutes. “Do you need the clit stimulator you whizzed around your deliciously fragrant cunt this morning? A second hand added to the mix? Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you. I will do anything to see how lit up your face becomes when you come.”
Sweet Mother of Texas, his mouth is filthy, and so the hell am I when I answer his question in a way I’ve wanted to for years but was never brave enough to do. “I need you.”
Lennox’s growl pushes me dangerously close to the edge, but it has nothing on the sensation that rips through me when he tugs me the last inch down the bed by a firm grip on my ass, shreds my panties off my body like they’re not weighed down by dampness, then locks his eyes with mine. “Say it again.”
“I need you,” I repeat, the yearning in his eyes too much to displace. Not even the copious amounts of liquor he drank can detract from it. I answered his questionexactlyhow he wanted me to.
