Mia’s chest is rising and falling fast, and her hips push upwards as her hand continues stroking. Her thighs fall open completely, treating me to a sight that makes my mouth water. Glistening pink flesh swollen with arousal. I want to sink inside her so bad, to memorize the way her hot cunt feels around me. But I won’t. Not yet.
She watches me pull my cock in long, easy strokes. “Are you imagining it’s my hand on you?” she asks, slightly breathless.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, pumping my fist over the crown and groaning. “But you’d be using two hands.” It’s obvious to us both, given my generous size, and her delicate hands. “And I’d make you go slow, so I could savor every bit of pleasure, the way your soft hands stroked my shaft while you were wishing it was your mouth.” Mia lets out a moan. “I’d want to take my time, not come right away,” I admit.
Mia’s fingers pick up speed as she circles the bud with a wet sound.
“I wish it was my tongue on your clit,” I say. “I could spend hours fucking you with my mouth.”
She lets out a desperate whimper, and I know she’s getting close. Her hips rock up with every stroke. I pump my cock harder.
“That’s it. Come for me sweetheart, give me everything.”
She cries out, and her fingers still as she comes. I can see the muscles in her pussy tremble and imagine how incredible it would feel to have her clench around my cock. I come with a hoarse moan, spilling myself onto my chest and abs.
After, we lay side by side, watching each other as my pulse pounds in my ears. I’m desperate to take her in my arms, but I know I can’t. She’s not mine, even if we did just share an incredibly intimate moment. I might not have laid a finger on her, yet I feel closer to her than anyone. I want to apologize, to explain that we shouldn’t have done that. But I’m not sorry. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.
We lay, unmoving, facing each other for several minutes. Mia searches my eyes for clues about what I’m thinking. “Collins?” she asks, finally, her voice small.
I lean over her on the bed, petting her hair back away from her face. “I’m sorry if I got a little carried away.”
She hesitates, and I wonder what she could be thinking. But then her expression lightens. “This is better than the sleepovers we had when we were twelve.”
An unexpected laugh rumbles in my chest and I kiss her forehead. “That was way fucking better. Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m great.”
“Good. I’m going to clean myself up quick.” I rise from the bed in search of something to clean myself off, but opt for a shower. I don’t know what to think about the fact that I haven’t been able to fuck my own girlfriend for weeks and I just came like a goddamn fire hose at my own hand with Mia beside me.
Ten minutes later, I emerge with a towel around my hips and see Mia lying in bed, dressed once again in her T-shirt.
“Let’s get some sleep.” I pull on my discarded shorts from beside the bed and crawl beside her.
I have no idea how I’m going to be productive in meetings tomorrow with Pierre and his executives with the erotic image of Mia coming on her own fingers permanently tattooed into my brain.
I switch off the light and we lie silent in the dark a few moments before I feel the bed shift slightly, as Mia moves closer to me, releasing a sleepy sound. She curls her hand around mine and squeezes. “Night, Coll,” she yawns.
“Goodnight, angel,” I murmur.
I lay awake for a long time after that as a rush of emotions charges through me without invitation. Part of me feels like shit for what I’ve done to Tatianna, yet the relief at knowing our relationship is over is immediate and all-encompassing, but most of all, I feel like I screwed up with Mia yet again.
Chapter Sixteen
Mia
Hand holding seems like the most juvenile thing I could have done after what Collins and I just shared. But I want to touch him—need to feel some part of him—because somehow that makes what I’ve just experienced more real.
My entire body is still singing from it. I’ve never pleasured myself in front of an audience before, and when Collins asked me to, I was so nervous, I wasn’t sure what to do, but his rugged voice instructed me. As he growled out orders, and I did what he wanted, it was like he was doing it to me, and it was so much better than being alone. It was exciting, knowing that he was so turned on by watching me touch myself. The desperate hunger burning in his eyes ensured I would have done anything he’d asked.
And watching him tug his shorts down and free his cock tempted me beyond belief. Our first time, I remembered him being huge. He’d been so big back then, that even after the initial pain subsided, it had been hard to take him all the way in at first. And then he’d filled me so deep, so full. Still, when I thought back on it, I figured I’d only imagined his amazing size. But it really is huge. I figured my memories were only my imagination running wild, like one of my dad’s fishing stories, he added inches to every retelling. But Collins is even bigger than I remembered. Damn, his cock alone is reason enough to fly across the country on my last dime.