He went to the far side of the bed and pulled down the comforter so only the sheets were left before returning to his spot. “On the bed, now.”
What did he have planned? I gathered the pillows up in a pile and sat on the cool sheets with the pillows at my back.
“I want to watch you touch yourself.”
My breath caught. “You do, huh? Where?”
“Wherever you want.”
I started with my breasts, because honestly, I knew he wanted a show. If this were for me, a private-alone-time kind of thing, I’d head straight downstairs. I filled my hands with the weight of my breasts, my nipples already tight and hard from the air conditioning and his inescapable gaze.
My fingers danced over the soft, bare skin, and I teased myself with a pinch, pulling the nipple away and letting it snap back. The eyes on me were heavy. I could feel every move they made, especially as they followed my hand that drifted lower. All the way down until it touched the black cotton.
He sat there, leaning on the desk and drinking the remainder of his drink casually as my fingers continued. I opened my legs wider, bending my knees as my hand explored. I stayed over the panties, rubbing myself until a moan broke free from my lips. I wanted this to be his hand touching me, not my own. But before I could say that—
“Pull them to the side. I want to see how wet you’ve made yourself.”
I swallowed an enormous breath. His words were such a turn-on, was it possible I could get off just from the stuff he said? I wasn’t wet from what I was doing, it was from his commands. My fingers hooked around the side and pulled the fabric away to expose myself to him.
He exhaled and made a sound of appreciation. “Take those off and make yourself come.”
“What?”
“I want to see how you do it, so I know exactly how you like it.”
I didn’t mind touching myself in front of him, but that? It was so private. “You know how I like it.”
“I’m sure there’s room for improvement.”
I doubted it, but slipped my fingers under the waistband and took them off, dropping them over the side of the bed. I was totally naked for him. My knees fell to part when my fingers went down over my mound to touch were I was slick and hot.
It felt different when he was watching. The pads of my fingers rubbed and circled, sending pleasure sizzling across my nerves. I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself, listening to his heavy breathing over my own.
“Do you only use the one hand?” He asked it hushed, like he didn’t want to disturb me.
I nodded, keeping my eyes closed. Oh my god, I was embarrassingly wet.
“Do you finger yourself or just rub your clit?”
“Why?” It was hard to focus when he asked me questions. “Are you taking notes?”
He chuckled, and then there was another noise as he shifted. I opened my eyes. He’d undone his pants and had a hand inside them, stroking himself, although I couldn’t see.
“How is that fair?” I kept touching myself lazily. “You get to watch and I don’t.”
His long fingers unbuttoned his shirt. He removed it, hung it on the back of the chair, and then his pants were off, folded on top.
“I believe I’m naked, sir.” I rose an eyebrow at the fact he’d left his boxers on. He grinned so widely that I froze. “What?”
“The last time you called me that was when you had a blindfold on. I liked it.”
That wasn’t surprising that he had liked it. That implied authority as if he were my master. He was anything but. Sure, I took commands from him, but I was smart enough to know I held plenty of power ov
er him. He was touching himself because of what I was doing. My effect on him.
His boxers were yanked down and his dick sprang free, hard and straight, and he wrapped a firm grip around it.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, his gaze fixed on my fingers that were stirring faster and faster, building in intensity. I moaned and relished the compliment. He stood and came to me, his hand on top of mine, stopping it so he could put his own hand there.