Overlooked(2)(136)
I clench my teeth together to stop from crying out. No one has ever touched me like that. I can’t believe how good it feels.
Why did my ex-boyfriend, Chet, only ever rub me like a genie’s lantern?
“You have the right anatomy. You could get all three, but you probably want to start with one. For your goal of sexual stimulation, the triangle’s the one you want,” he says, still holding the spot between his fingers.
I look down at the heavily tattooed man with pierced nipples. Ordinarily I would never let anyone like him touch me. Right now all I want to do is sit in his chair forever.
“Well?” he asks.
“Well what?”
A silence falls between us. He keeps moving his fingers, and my entire body hums and buzzes. My breathing is quick, and I’ve given up caring that I’m the color of a tomato.
After a few moments, Gabe says, “I’m not sure a piercing is what you need.”
Gabe
My dick is rock hard and hurts like a bitch in my jeans. I lean forward so she doesn’t notice.
The way Eloise is squirming under my touch makes it pretty clear that she doesn’t need a piercing to have an orgasm.
“What do you mean?” she asks. Her voice is a breathy gasp.
“I mean that I don’t think physical stimulation is your problem here.”
Eloise says nothing, and I keep my fingers where they are. I’d love to make her come right now, but not if she doesn’t want me to.
“Why do you say that?”
With my free hand, I lift up the edge of the towel and wipe some of the dripping wet from her pussy.
“It didn’t take much to make it all wet down here.”
“Doesn’t that happen to everyone?”
I look up at her and smirk. “Not usually.”
She’s already the brightest red I’ve ever seen anyone but I swear she just went redder.
“Oh God, how embarrassing.”
I would definitely like to hear her say oh God a few more times, right before she screams my name.
Holding her eyes in mine, I say, “I can show you right here.”
“Huh?”
“I can get you off right now if you want.”
Eloise straightens her body, though I still haven’t let go.
“What happened to being professional?”
With a slight shrug, I say, “I’d just be doing a favor for an old friend.”
She shuts her eyes, breaking our gaze. Without opening them, she says, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Didn’t Mrs. Singleton always tell us to help our friends whenever we could?”
Once again I start squeezing and rolling my fingertips. My face is a mere foot from her pussy and it takes all my self-control not to have one sweet taste.
Her eyes shoot open, and she studies me, searching her memory.
“Mrs. Singleton? What do you mean?”
“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt,” I say, teasing her.
“Did we go to school together? What did you say your name was?”
“Gabe.”
She thinks for a moment, and says, “Gabriel Irwin?”
“You got it.”
A huge smile spreads across her face, and she says, “You used to sit behind me in seventh grade.”
“Yep, in Mrs. Singleton’s class.”
“I thought you moved away,” she says, her brow furrowed.
“I did and then I moved back.”
“Well, this is awkward.”
“Why? It shouldn’t be,” I say.
“I’ve got a strange man’s fingers between my legs, and it turns out I went to grade school with him. Not awkward at all,” she says sarcastically.
“I always wondered what became of you.”
“I’m a physiotherapist. I work at my parents’ practice. Did you know they’re doctors?”
The mention of them wrenches my gut. “Yeah, I knew.”
“You used to get in trouble all the time because all you did was draw.”
The memories of Mrs. Singleton telling me I’d never amount to anything if I didn’t work on my English come flooding back and I laugh. All that drawing is what made me a success in the tattoo industry.
“Good thing I never listened to her.”
“One time you drew me a picture of an elephant. I taped it to the inside of my science binder and it stayed there all year. I even transferred it to my eighth grade science binder.”
I remember drawing that for her. I was too nervous to ask her to be my little girlfriend and I came up with a plan that I would draw her a picture she loved so much that she would automatically say I was her boyfriend. She took the picture but she never called me her boyfriend.
“You kept that after I left?”
“It was a good picture,” Eloise says, and smiles.