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“Yes, I masturbate. Pretty damn often. Nothing shameful about it.”
She looked away, and there was a pinkness to her cheeks that made him want the hell out of her. He wanted to suggest that she masturbate herself. Right now. Fuck, he’d come without a touch if she orgasmed from her fingers rubbing her own clit.
She reached inside the drawer, her hand already lifting out the bottle of lube, and the idea that he might be able to come inside her after all trapped the suggestion of them both masturbating in his throat. He was an ass, after all.
He swallowed, feeling the goddamn knife against his Adam’s apple before he could force the words out. “Have you ever masturbated, Bea?”
Her fingers went slack, and the bottle of lube smacked his chest. Her lips pressed together, and she pushed the blade against his neck, ratcheting up his need another notch. “We’re not talking about this.”
The expression in her eyes made them look almost bruised.
She dipped her chin at the lube. “This will really help?”
“It’ll make us slippery as fuck, if we use enough.” He lifted the bottle, flipping open the top. “You want to put it on, or me? I don’t expect you to touch me.” He’d probably come if her lubed-up hand gripped him in any way.
“You do it,” she said with a frown.
“Lift up then.” Montrell squeezed more than was needed into his palm. She looked down between them, and he spread it on his cock with her watching. His own hand was almost too damn much. He pressed his head back into the pillow, trying to count to ten to distract himself as he added more. He wanted his cock to be slick as fuck if they were going to do this.
He nudged the bottle against her arm. “It should be both of us. Take some.”
Her head lifted as she stared at him, and she wrinkled her nose. “It looks messy.”
He scowled at her. “I’m serious, Bea. This will make you wet and take away the pain.”
“I—” She swallowed again, her eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t want to touch myself,” she admitted in a whisper.
He couldn’t breathe. Not around the knot that her vulnerability had embedded in his chest.
She positioned herself over him again.
He tried to shake his feelings loose, to let her do it, but she needed to be fucking wet. He tapped her arm with the bottle again. “You need it. Please, Bea.”
She bit her lip, staring down at the bottle. “No,” she repeated. “I don’t like to touch myself.” Then, with her voice strained, she added, “You do it.”
His chest seized when her hand trembled on the knife, making it shake. They were going to need to change her views on masturbation.
“You sure?” he asked, trying to read her face.
“I’m over talking about this.” She was still too damn tense. She would hurt herself despite the lube, taking him all tense like that.
“Let me get myself again first,” he said. He dumped enough lube on his hand that it dripped onto his chest hair, then reached down between them. His slick fingers rubbed up his length toward the tip. She hovered close enough that his pinky brushed her pubic hair. “Sorry. You were closer than I thought,” he murmured, the head of his cock sensitive as hell as he palmed it. His fingers brushed her more deliberately, the backs stroking over her lips.
He was staring at her face, watching her brow wrinkle at the sensation.
“Dang, I didn’t get enough lube,” he lied, letting his hand turn and rub her for real before he brought it up between them.
Her eyes opened, narrowing on his in suspicion. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” she asked.
“Nope,” he answered, forcing himself not to smile as she continued to stare. He had no idea how much he squeezed out this time because his eyes were on her. “Let me press him against you. See if my giant cock is slick enough now.”
She rolled her eyes but then froze as he slicked the lube all over the outside of her pussy with his fingers. Her eyes widened as she stared into his. “Oh, did I miss? Let me try again.” There was still plenty of lube to rub on her. He watched closely, seeing that twitch at her cheekbone as he slicked over the hood of her clit. He let his knuckles rub slowly back and forth, spreading the lube as she frowned. “There it is. That’s not so bad, is it, Bea?” he murmured. “Nice and slick, so it doesn’t hurt.”
She blinked, the frown on her face so fucking cute. “That isn’t…” she trailed off as his finger turned and swirled in a barely there circle.
“Sorry,” Montrell said, and he did feel a little guilty. “I know you didn’t give me permission. But you need this too.” He continued his light touch over the hood of her clit, wondering how long he’d be able to get away with it. “I’ve told you before,” he continued, a little breathless as her chest rose and fell with what he hoped was a wave of arousal. “Not hurting you is my priority. It trumps what you want sometimes.” He pulled his hand away, shocked when her hips followed it subtly. “Hold on, Bea. More lube.”
He was quick to dump it on, moving his hand between them again. “Spread your legs a little wider,” he suggested, desperate as hell to get his hand there again. “That’s a good girl,” he breathed, and he spread the lube right over her budding clit this time.
