Sheltered(39)

Quite the contrary. They sounded like things people said when they wanted someone to continue. Oh there, he told her. So good, he told her. And by God each one felt like victory in her head. She’d pushed him over, made him get to this place, and now he was about a second away from letting her maybe…do other things. Things she could ask for, if she only held on to her courage for a little longer.

“Can I…” she tried, but that didn’t sound right. Can I were the words people used at the age of eight when they desperately needed the bathroom. They weren’t the things adults said, in the middle of sex.

But then, what were the things adults said in the middle of sex? I want to? I need to? I’d like to?

“Show me,” she settled on, finally. Show me was safe, show me let him take the lead if he wanted to. But more importantly, show me eliminated all the possible mistakes she could make, like too hard or too soft or too slow.

Still, she didn’t quite expect him to go with it, until the second he actually did.

“Like this,” he said, and just those two words alone were enough to tug on her clit. To rub over the tips of her breasts and set her to shivering. But then his hand, oh his hand right over hers. And the pressure he put on himself, through her.

God, she didn’t think she’d ever get over that. Her own strokes immediately seemed timid and fragile. His were so fierce she feared she’d hurt him, even though he was the one making it so. He practically shoved at the back of her hand, forcing her palm to grind over the swollen and now extremely obvious head of his cock. And the second he hit it just right, his entire body made the most incredible arch.

She could feel him shuddering, through that one point of connection. Could almost make out the vibrations his shockingly loud moans made, as they worked their way through his body—though this time he didn’t stop at moans.

He went with words too. Loud, greedy, filthy words.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Work my cock.”

She tried to remember if he’d ever said anything like that before, and failed. Most of her was failing. He’d clasped her hand almost completely around that now excruciatingly hard shape, and she knew enough to understand what that meant.

She wasn’t just rubbing him. She was jerking him off. Actually jerking him off, as he gasped and groaned with pleasure and pretty much lost all control of himself. And she knew he’d done the latter too, because after a second of this frantic pressure on the iron bar of his cock, he started…doing other things.

Like maybe undoing his belt, and unbuttoning his jeans.

She had to pull away then. Not because it scared her—because dear Lord it didn’t—but because the sight was so arresting. She needed a view, she needed to watch, and not only because of the thought of what was to come.

Because of the way it looked, when he pulled the leather through the loop. She’d definitely never thought of something like that as a sexual thing before, but oh the sight of Van doing it. He did it quickly, so quickly—as though he couldn’t wait another second. But despite his brisk fingers and the efficient way he was going about it, there was something fumbly about it too.

Something too desperate, that turned her on more than she’d like to say.

He couldn’t seem to breathe in a normal way anymore. His chest went up and down, visibly, and when she went to maybe just touch something innocent that he’d inadvertently exposed—like that strip of hair just above his waistband—he jerked away as though stung.

Then came right back for more.

“Go on,” he said. “Go on.”

In almost the exact same way she’d imagined doing it. Her instincts weren’t wrong, apparently, and the thought pushed her the rest of the way. She ran a finger over his belly and watched the muscles there jump, then as he fumbled and shoved his jeans down over his thighs she maybe didn’t stop that finger’s progress. Yeah, maybe she just let it slide on down until it came to the thing he’d just completely exposed, between his legs.

Before coming to an abrupt and frankly stunned halt, somewhere just above her intended target.

It didn’t look the way she’d expected. Not at all. For a start, he was bigger than anything she’d actually pictured. Way, way bigger. And now that she could see all of him, she realized with some embarrassment what she’d been using as a template.

Some pastel-colored thing from a textbook, that had almost nothing to do with the reality. Reality was thick and heavy-looking, and so, so lewd. The head gleamed red and wet in the low light, as slick somehow as her pussy now seemed, and when he wrapped his hand around the base she almost expected it not to go, somehow.