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His head drops back against the headboard, and he swallows audibly. “Open your fucking legs.”
I do it, hooking them over either arm of the chair so that I’m angled upward.
“Fuck.”
Jesse’s pitching a tent in his striped PJ pants.
“You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” I say. “You can watch.”
He drops his head against the headboard a second time. “Fuck.”
“Those are my rules,” I say. “Do you want to watch me or not?”
“Don’t tease me, Angel.”
“Do you want to watch me or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then keep your hands where I can see them,” I whisper.
My body thrums with anticipation. It’s like I’m a tuning fork, and Jesse is the instrument.
“Angel.”
I slide my palm over my pussy and dip my fingers toward my slick entrance. I gasp and squirm in front of him, archingmy back. It’s exquisite, and it’s been so long since I’ve done anything. I’ve been too busy, too tense.
I want that tension gone.
“Put a finger inside,” he says.
I do it, arching again.
“Another one.”
I slip a second finger inside, using my other hand to rub circles over my clit.
“That’s it. Fuck that pussy for me, Angel. I want to hear the noises you make.”
I pump my fingers in and out, whining and hot, picturing his hands on my body, shivering with need. This is so wrong, and it pushes me toward my climax with a frantic speed.
“Look at me, Angel. Look at me when you come.”
I meet his gaze.
Jesse’s got the sheets wrangled in his hands, his knuckles white.
“Come for me, Angel.”
The orgasm erupts, and I cry out, the pulse taking me over the edge.
“Jesse, oh my God. Yes. Yes, baby.”
“Fuck.”
I descend from the high and slump in the armchair, exhausted but giddy from the release. Jesse gets up and comes over. He scoops me into his arms and then carries me to the bed. He lays me down, then grabs my shorts and pulls them up and over my body, lifting me where he needs to. Finally, he tucks me in, takes my fingers, and raises them to his lips.
“Rule number one,” I manage.
