Page 204 of Love Me Stalk Me
She's shy, but fuck—she's so eager. She wants to be good for me. She just doesn't know how to let go completely yet.
"Do it, Izzy," I command softly. "Feel your body. Enjoy it. This is all for you."
Her lips part, her breath coming quick and uneven.
Then, finally—she moves.
Her hands glide up her stomach, her fingertips trailing over her ribs, higher, higher, until they reach her breasts.
I let out a slow, controlled exhale as I watch.
She cups herself, squeezing lightly, her fingers grazing over taut, pink peaks.
I crank up the vibrations on the toy.
She moans, whimpering, arching into her own touch, her back lifting slightly off the pillows.
Fucking perfect.
I adjust my grip on the remote, watching as she teases herself, rolling her nipples, letting herself feel it, letting herself sink deeper into the pleasure.
"That's it, pretty girl," I murmur, my voice like gravel.
Her breath trembles, her thighs twitch, her fingers tighten.
She's incredibly responsive. Perfectly wrecked. Mine.
She whimpers, hips rocking, her body chasing the sensations.
I flick the remote higher. She gasps.
"Cal—"
My name—my real name—on her lips.
It's nearly my undoing.
"Good girl," I praise, gripping my thigh so hard my knuckles go white.
She trembles, breath catching in her throat, then stutteringout in a gasp as her body clenches hard around the toy. It’s buried deep, pulsing in steady waves—watching her come apart like this? It’s pure fucking sin.
Her approaching orgasm is evident—stomach tightening, breath quickening, thighs trembling. She's right at the edge.
I turn the vibrations to the highest setting. She cries out, arching, her fingers gripping the sheets. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling, her body completely open and exposed to me.
“Look at you,” I growl, eyes locked on her face. “You can’t even take it, can you? But you will. You’re going to give me every last fucking twitch.”
She has no fucking clue that I'm the one controlling her pleasure. That I'm the one bringing her to the brink. That I'm the one breaking her apart.
She moans my name, and I fucking lose it.
My other hand moves to my cock, slipping under my waistband, gripping myself hard. I stroke, slow, watching her, feeling her. I'm already so close.
"Izzy," I groan, voice thick. "Come for me."
And she does—back arched, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted in that perfect silent scream as another wave crashes through her. And I just watch, feral and starving, because there’s nothing sweeter than wrecking her like this.
Fuck, it’s too much.
