Page 48 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“I want you to imagine it’s me workin’ you through the fabric… teasin’ you until you beg me to give you what you need.”

I picture her next to me, her fingers rubbing against me as she tortures me with her words. My abs tighten.

“Are you stiff for me, baby?”

“Always,” I growl.

“Good. That’s how I like you. Take it out for me and work that thick cock… slowly.”

I do what she says, my hips lifting as I rip off my clothes and toss them to the side. My dick springs into the air, precum bubbling at the tip. I use it to lubricate my hand, sliding it down until I’m gripping the base of my shaft.

“Are you touching my pussy, baby girl?” I rasp, stroking myself.

“What are you gonna do about it if I am? You aren’t here to stop me. I’ll use my pussy any way I want.”

“Fuck.”

“Does that turn you on? Thinkin’ about me rubbin’ my clit to the sound of your pleasure?”

My muscles tense, my cock leaking steadily, making my hand skim easily along the length.

“Close your eyes,” she whispers. “Imagine it’s my mouth slidin’ up and down, beggin’ you to come down my throat.”

I groan, throwing my head back as I follow her instruction. Damn, this is hot.

“I need you to tell me when you get close.”

“I’m there, baby girl.” My cock pulses as I say the words, a shot of desire spreading through my body.

“Where do you wanna give it to me, Eli? What was it you once said? ‘On my knees so you can paint my porcelain skin?’”

My hips jerk into my fist at the vision. I do want to paint her with my cum. I love doing that. Marking her. Claiming her.

“On second thought,” she continues. “I don’t think so. I want you deep inside me, so I can feel every spasm as you fill me up.”

A tingling burn starts at the base of my spine, racing up my back and around my hips, shooting euphoria through my limbs. I jerk in my hand, groaning as my cock throbs, spraying my release all over my knuckles and stomach. My head slams against my pillows as I stroke through my orgasm, squeezing out every drop.

“Good boy,” she coos. “Goodnight, Eli. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Click.

I lay on my bed, out of breath. I’m confused by why she hung up so quick, but too hazy and blown away by everything she is to overthink it.

One more month and I can give her the world.

25

Becca

I lied.

Add it to my list of sins.

But how can I admit the sight of that girl in Eli’s arms caused my heart to stutter out a painful rhythm?

There’s still wounds on my soul—caused by a church who wields a blade, and a papa who slices deep. I don’t care much for the throbbing that’s shown up, reminding me the scars are there.

My bedroom door creaks open, Sabrina’s pink-tipped head peeking around the corner.

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