Page 175 of Love Me Stalk Me
I grunt, my hands fisting in the couch cushions, trying to stay in control.
"Izzy—"
She doesn't give me a chance to protest. She reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around the thick outline of my cock through my pants, and I curse, hips jerking into her touch.
She's so fucking eager.
So willing.
Like she wants to make up for all the times she was denied this.
Like she wants to worship me the way I just worshiped her.
I groan, my head tipping back, but she doesn't let up.
She tightens her grip, stroking me through the fabric, watching me like she's memorizing every reaction, every little twitch of my body.
"Please?" she whispers, voice breathy, teasingand wicked.
Fuck.
I nod, because there's no way in hell I can say no to her right now.
"Yeah. But I'm close. A few strokes, and I'm done."
Her eyes glint.
And she surprises me again.
"I want to taste you."
I suck in a breath.
Jesus Christ, she's going to kill me.
I grab her wrist, stopping her from reaching for my waistband.
"Soon." My voice is rough, strained, barely hanging on. "But not this time. Not when I can't properly enjoy it."
She pouts, but I love that look on her.
So fucking much.
"Come here."
She shifts, settling on her knees in front of me.
I barely have time to brace myself before she releases my cock and takes me in her hand, slow, teasing, too fucking perfect. I hiss through my teeth, watching her, watching her beautiful, delicate fingers wrap around me.
It's too much.
Her skin is still flushed from my mouth on her.
The taste of her release still lingers on my tongue, hot and sweet and addictive.
And now, she’s on her knees, bare and breathtaking, eyes dark with heat, her mouth soft and waiting, my cock in her hand, stroking me slow.
How the fuck am I supposed to last through that?
