Page 41 of Wasted Lust

Touch me, I whisper to myself in my head. Touch me. I’m ready to beg him.

His hand dips lower into the v of my legs, as if he can hear the silent plea. His thumb presses against my wet panties, and then begins to stroke it in a circular motion.

More. That’s the only word on my mind. More.

His other hand finds my breast and gives it a hard squeeze. He tugs at the low neckline of the dress and my bra, and drags them down until my nipple is exposed.

Then he stops.

I open my eyes, seeking the reason behind the pause. “Please, Jax, don’t stop.”

“I want to watch you watch me,” he replies in a husky voice. “I want your eyes open, on mine, and every second I’m touching you, I want to see it.”

“See what?” I whisper.

“The longing. The desire. And when I make you come, the relief.”

No lover I’ve ever had was quite like this man here. There was no talking. No demands, no expectations beyond finishing.

But even though it was so much easier to have those kinds of relationships, it’s so much better to have this kind of sex.

“OK,” I agree.

The second the words are out of my mouth his hands are working. The one over my panties fists the fabric and pulls it aside, while the other hand slides down the length of my body, coming to a rest on the mound of my pussy.

His fingers begin a dance. Some desperate to get inside me, others deftly strumming my clit like an instrument. I hear the moans coming from my mouth, and then a sharp, “Open your eyes, Sasha,” that brings me back to reality.

But this cannot be reality. Nothing in my life has ever felt quite like this. I’m losing control and I don’t care.

His finger slips inside me, stretching me as it seeks to go deeper. And then another finger is there, doubling the sensations.

His other hand is busy caressing all the sensitive folds surrounding my clit. A pool of desire collects there, his fingertips sweeping through it, before withdrawing.

He removes his hand, but he’s got a grin on his face, like he’s got a surprise for me. So I stay silent.

“Open your mouth, Sasha.”

I part my lips and a second later his wet finger is inside, pressing on my tongue. It tastes like shattered dreams and wasted lust.

“Suck,” he says, slowly moving his finger in and out of my mouth. “Suck my finger and imagine it’s my cock as I fuck your pussy with my other hand.”

I wrap my lips around his moving finger. Between my legs he pushes inside me with more force. Everything is in and out, moving together like a dance of back and forth. Give and take.

My back arches over his knees, and then he repositions himself, sliding down a little to flatten his lap and give his growing cock more room. I can feel it pressing against my spine. I imagine how big he is, how he would fill me up.

“Open your eyes, Sasha.”

I didn’t realize I’d closed them. My desire is growing quickly, and pretty soon it will be impossible to keep them open, even if I concentrate. But I do as he asks and I’m rewarded with burning lust in his gaze.

“Come,” he says. “Come on my fingers so I can make you suck it off before I fuck you for real.”

His words make me breathless. No one has ever talked to me like that. No one has ever made time slow down or my heart speed up quite like this.

He pumps me harder. Both in my mouth and my pussy, making my back arch. I suck his finger as it slides across my tongue, wishing it was his cock. I picture myself on my knees, looking up into his eyes. His fingers entwined in my hair as he encourages me to take him deeper.

He curves his finger inside my pussy, finding my g-spot, and a few strokes later I’m writhing. The shudder of release forces me to close my eyes so I can enjoy it. And then he takes his finger out of my mouth, slips his arm behind my head, and brings my lips to his. His kiss is the last thing I expect, but the perfect ending to my climax.

“Sasha,” he moans, his words caressing my tongue, his breath mingling with my own panting. “Sit up.”