“Thank you,” she says softly.
There’s a small patch of trimmed hair just above the cleft. Dark pinkish-purple folds gleam with her arousal. Her slit is tempting and teetering me on the edge of flat-out giving up years of practiced celibacy, solely to find out what it would feel like to have those lips slide over my cock.
I want to touch her, spread her, see every part of her, but she’s supposed to be touching herself. She’s supposed to be learning, my little Ivy-League student.
Taking her hand, I guide it south, covering her fingers with my own. I use our index and middle fingers to rub the length of her core before opening her and letting me see that perfect pink bud, tight and wet.
She’s soaked, her arousal not only coats her fingers, but mine too. I want to put it in my mouth, lick every inch of her off me.
Her body stiffens, interrupting my carnal thoughts. Peering up, those soft brown eyes latch on to mine, giving me all the trust in the world and fuck if I don’t melt on the spot.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, her throat moving in the prettiest swallow, my mind racing with dirty ways I’d love to see her swallow again.
“I’m nervous.”
Brows pinched, I ask, “Why?”
My confident roommate, nervous?
She laughs uncomfortably. “I feel like a virgin. It’s just been a long time.”
“Tell me about it.”
She smiles at that, that kissable bottom lip sliding between her teeth.
“If you want to stop, tell me. But you don’t have to be nervous with me. God, you’re fucking perfect, Blue. Pretend you’re alone, in your room, touching yourself.”
“I don’t want to pretend I’m alone.”
Of course, she doesn’t. She never does.
“I like knowing you’re here. That you’re watching me.”
“Then I’ll just be here, eternally grateful that I get to watch you make yourself come.” I move her hand once again, forcing a bit more pressure and together, we find her clit.
I show her how to rub a circle around the bud, how to flick, how to squeeze it just the way I would if her hand wasn’t between me and her body.
“Oh God, that feels good.” Her head falls back into the couch below her and I continue to help her work herself up.
Her chest is moving rapidly, her tits begging for attention. I take one in my mouth, continuing to move her hand.
“What’s your thing, Ind, huh? Do you like to be called names in bed? Do you like to be talked down to?”
She lets out a tiny moan, but I think it has more to do with the pull of her nipple between my teeth and the flick of our fingers coasting over her clit, and less to do with what I said. Because I know this girl and there’s not a world in which she wants to be called a degrading name. She likes to be told she’s lovely and smart.
“No, that’s not it. My little valedictorian likes to be praised, doesn’t she?”
A whimper. The prettiest, sexiest sound I’ve ever heard comes from her throat.
“Clever girl like you, you want to hear how good you’re doing. How perfect you are. How well you’re taking it.”
I feel our fingers getting wetter the more I talk.
“Well, Blue, you’re doing so fucking good. Do you feel us touching your pretty clit? Do you feel how swollen we’re making you? How wet you are? So good, baby.”
An audible gasp escapes her as she drops her head back, her tits pressing into my face. Her legs are shaking around me. Her toes are bunching against the surface of the sofa.
God, I want to fuck her. I’m scared to, but at the same time, I can’t think of anything better.
Instead, I slide off the edge of the couch, letting my cock rub against the sofa, pacifying practically none of the burning need.
Fuck, the view from down here is dangerous. She’s breathtakingly bare. Her thong is pushed so far to one side, I’m able to memorize the entirety of her pussy. Every silky fold. The glistening slit.
“Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
Her muscles clench at that, and all I want to know is how fucking tight she is.
“Ryan, make me come,” she begs.
“Make yourself come.”
Moving her fingers, I slide them through her folds, prodding at her entrance. I guide her to press inside herself. Her middle finger disappears. In and out. Slick and wet.
The noises between her panting breaths, her incredible whimpers, and her soaked skin are going to do me in. But then she says a few more beautiful words and I could swear I’ve been transported to heaven.
“Yours too,” she pleads. “Put your finger inside me.”
“Fuck, Indy. You keep talking like that and I’m going to come before you do.”
“Wrap your hand around your cock then put your finger inside me. If this is the only way I get to have you inside of me, then please.”
If this is what it feels like to give up control and have a stunning woman tell me what to do, I need to let go more often.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ryan?”
How much I want you, Ryan.
I let the words wash over me, basking in them. I can’t remember the last time I was truly wanted.
Pulling my cock out, I give it a quick tug, then pinch it at the base, needing to stop before I explode. When her finger comes out again, I cover it with mine, both of ours breaking the entrance.
She’s so goddamn tight. Our fingers are a snug fit, her walls already pulsing. And all I can think about is my cock in my hand. How deliciously constricted it would be inside her.
I stroke our fingers from the inside, playing with her and finding the spot against her front wall.
Indy’s a squirming mess, her head tossing back and forth. Her cries filled with “yes, right there,” “oh, how does it feel so good,” and my personal favorite, “I’m going to come.”
Her heaving body resists the impending orgasm, not letting go just yet. Typically, I love a bit of orgasm control, building her up, easing her back then up again until she releases. But tonight, I just want her to come. She’s been held back for far too long.
“Let it go, Ind. I need to see you let go.”
“Are you going to come?”
Am I going to come? The cock in my hand is leaking and angry that it’s not inside anything other than my fist. One quick tug and I’ll be coming all over the edge of this couch.
“Yeah, baby. I’m going to come.”
“Can I watch?”
Holy shit. That’s hot, and if that’s what she needs, who am I to deny her?
Removing my finger from her pussy, I’m back on my knees and between her legs.
Indy’s dazed gaze finds my dick as it moves between my languid strokes.
“Oh,” she breathes out. “Wow, that’s big.”
I chuckle. “Ind, how about you come before you start inflating my ego.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jesus. Not helping.
I hover over her, cock in one hand, the other finding her throat. My muscles contract at an erratic pace. I watch as Indy fingers her clit, so much of her arousal covering her hand, and like the dirty bastard I am, I want to coat my hand in her and use it to get off.
But I don’t because I’m already crossing way more lines than I intended to tonight.