Page 59 of The Cabin

Grayson adjusts so he can press up against me fully, finally allowing me to feel how hard he is against my stomach.

I’m all breathy gasps and quiet moans.

His fingers leave to grab a handful of my hip and I’m mid huff of protest when his mouth descends on where his fingers had been, licking, sucking, biting. I’m gripping his shoulders, nails digging in, body arching into his touch.

“That’s it, lollipop, show me how much you like it.” He glances up from my chest and the sight of him making eye contact, sucking and licking my tits? Unreal.

I wrap my legs around his waist when I feel his right hand take my other breast in his hand, making sure to tweak and twist and pinch that nipple too. “Oh god.”

With the new position, the base of his cock rubs against my core, teasing just outside where I want him.

“Tell me how wet you are for me, Sol.” He bites and licks and kisses his way up my chest to my jaw.

“So wet. So, so wet.”

“Howwet, lollipop?” His right hand is getting closer and closer to where I desperately need it, his left still gripping my waist, holding me in place against him.

“Dripping,” I moan, throwing my head back, skin crawling in anticipation. I should be horrified right now. I should be freaking out. I don’t do discomfort or new things. But I don’t have a single brain cell to dedicate to those kinds of feelings. All I can feel is heat.

Grayson grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. Faces inches apart.

“Good fucking girl.” His mouth opens, taking in a shuttered breath as his fingers slip between my lips, moving up and down agonizingly slow, making sure to never quite touch my clit. He dips one finger, then two inside me. My legs tighten around him and my nails dig harder into his back.

“So tight. So goddamn tight.”

The noises he’s coaxing out of me are downright feral.

As quickly as I was filled, I’m suddenly empty. I want to scream. But then I watch Grayson bring his fingers up between our faces. He paints my slickness across my lips and uses his thumb to push down on my chin, opening my mouth.

“Suck. Taste how fucking sweet you are.” I do, I lick up his fingers, hollowing out my cheeks and suck up and down. His dick twitches against my stomach. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever been a part of.

He pulls his fingers out of my mouth with apop. We’re both breathing heavily, watching each other. My hand is removed from his shoulder and pulled under the water. He uses my hand to cup me, keeping it in place with his own.

“Slide your fingers into this tight fucking cunt, lollipop. I want you to feel how tight you are, I want you to understand what’s been keeping me up at night jerking my cock. Coming to the thought of how tight I’ve dreamt this pussy is.” I am going to combust. I have never done any of these things but I am so goddamn hypnotized by him that I have no choice but to follow his demands. I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to. My body answers to him.

As soon as I get them inside myself he pulls my hand back up. He’s torturing me. Only giving me the teeniest, tiniest taste of what he’s capable of. What he’s got planned.

“My turn.” His eyes are so bright, so determined, so satisfied. He sucks my fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. When he’s done, he leans his forehead against mine, giving a pained, frenzied moan that fans across my face.

“So much better than I imagined. You taste so good. You taste perfect.” I feel drunk. I’m drunk off his touch, I’m drunk off his dirty freaking mouth, I’m drunk off the way he looks at me.

Grayson takes both hands and grips my ass, grinding me against him. Adjusting himself so my core glides up and down his dick, soaking it.

“Fuck, Sol. This pussy feels so good on my cock.” He’s moving just right, just enough to send shocks of pleasure through me.

“Grayson, please,” I beg, bucking my hips against him.

“Tell me what you want.” He spreads my ass wider in his hands.

“I need you to touch me,” I whine, slipping my arms around his neck, pulling myself as close as I can get.

“Tell me where, lollipop.” I’m so pissed that this stupid fucking nickname he’s latched on to is turning me on even more.

His hips roll lazily into me. It’s torment. It’s painful having him this close, playing with me, without actually touching where I need him to.

“I need your fingers.”

“Tell me where.” A bite to my jaw, my neck, the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder, my breast.

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