The slight tremble in my hands gave away my nerves, but I pressed on, unlooping his belt with an ease I didn’t feel, my chest squeezing a little tighter when I opened his pants. I moved the material down slowly, marveling at how warm his skin felt against my hand and then pausing to brush against the coarse hairs that covered his stomach, lower.
After a pause and a breath, I followed that trail, the sensation different against my hands than it had been against my body. I moved slowly, deliberately, but stopped when I heard his exhale and looked up at him with wide eyes.
His jaw was clenched tight, his hands wrapped in tight fists, but, I realized, this wasn’t an expression of anger. He was battling for control, and the expression on his face, one that clearly showed both his need and his patience, was there because of me. My chest swelled, the unfamiliar feminine power that now coursed through me giving me bravery that I so often lacked.
I moved again, let my fingers pass through the nest of coarse hair until my knuckle grazed the thick root of his hardness. I trailed that knuckle down his shaft, barely touching his hot, smooth skin, but fascinated nonetheless by the way he felt, the skin thin and lined with an intricate network of veins, all of his shaft seeming to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
Back and forth I went, covering a little more of him with each pass, becoming bolder in my exploration with each passing second. On the last pass, I reached out and circled a finger around his rounded head, smiling faintly when he twitched and then smiling brighter when I saw a pearl of wetness leak from him.
Before I stopped to think, I caught that drop in the curve of my finger and then lifted my hand to my mouth and snaked out my tongue to grab it. The clean salty flavor, strong but not overwhelming, hit my taste buds just as the sound of Anton’s low moan hit my ears.
“You’re teasing me, Lily,” he gruffed out.
“No, I—” I started, alarm filling me suddenly.
“I like it,” he said, cutting me off. “Continue.”
I almost preened under his approval, and was even further emboldened by his words.
Reaching out for him again, I readied myself for the feel of him against my hand, but was again surprised by the sensation, the mix of strength and softness unlike anything I’d ever felt. I teased him again, moving from root to tip and back again, and then I shifted my fingers so that I brushed his underside, the tight flesh there pulsing, whether from his desire or my attention, I couldn’t say.
Then I dropped my finger lower, down the smoothness of his perfectly shaped sac, touching with only the faintest brushes at first and then gently gripping him in my palm, testing the heavy warm weight of him, suddenly anxious to feel the seed he carried there inside me, though I couldn’t say why.
What had started as a seduction of him quickly wrapped me in its pull, and my own heart began to pound erratically, the tingling tightness there spreading to settle, a low, needy warmth that coiled in my belly. As that warmth, the pulsing throb that had my walls clenching, increased, so did my touches of Anton.
I released his sac and gripped his root, moving one hand and then the other up his shaft and then back down, stopping to gather the pearls of moisture that flowed freely from him now, each one a tiny little treasure, proof that he desired me.
On and on I went, Anton’s cock now a deep, angry red and steel-solid in my hands.
“Tighter,” he muttered, his voice thick, almost unintelligible.
I glanced at him, saw the inferno of passion in his eyes, and said, “Show me.”
He let out a grimaced smile and then closed his hands over mine, squeezing tight, far tighter than I ever would have. Then he stroked up and then down his shaft, movements growing ever faster.
I followed, mimicking his motions when he dropped his hand and I was rewarded with low-moaned breaths that showed me how much he liked what I was doing. So I continued, mind marveling at the fact that this powerful man was responding because of me.
“Lily…”
He said my name on a thick moan, and I looked up to meet his eyes, saw the warning there.
I stroked faster, and then faster, and after a low grunt, I watched, fascinated as first one, then another, then another jet of pearly white fluid exploded from him. The first landed against my shirtless side, the other hit my forearm, and the last few splashed against my wrist, searing hot and leaving me as satisfied as my own climax would have.
Anton flexed in my palm and then started to soften, and when he wrapped a hand on either side of my face and pulled me in for a kiss, I let him go, desperate to taste him, touch him again. I shook my head when he broke away, but he put a calming hand on my shoulder.
“Wait here,” he said.