“Oh.” I grin and unbutton my jeans, watching him as I push them off my hips. I leave my panties and T-shirt on and climb onto the bed. “In that case…”
“You’re not naked.”
I lift a brow. “Neither are you.” I love his hot eyes on me.
“Lie down.”
I obey, and he runs his eyes over me again and again. Nate looking at me is as good as any foreplay I’ve ever known.
He hands me the vibrator then moves to the end of the bed. “Put it between your legs.”
“I’d rather you do it for me,” I protest. Turning the device in my hands, I look up at him through my lashes. I know how badly he wants to touch me, how much self-restraint he’s using to stay at the foot of the bed when he could be on the bed with me. Touching me.
“You’re going to have to figure out how to use it yourself.” He folds his arms and stares down at me like a warden supervising his charge.
I grin. “You think I don’t know how to get myself off? Aren’t you cute?”
A muscle in his jaw jumps, but he raises a brow and holds my gaze. “Prove
it.”
My heart leaps into my throat at the challenge, and I lick my lips. When I part my legs, his nostrils flare and his eyes go darker. “With this?” I ask, holding up the vibrator.
“Show me how you do it.” He drops his arms and his fists clench at his sides.
I release the vibrator on the bed next to me. Keeping my eyes on him, I cup myself between my legs. I’m so turned on from all this talk of masturbation and the look in his eyes. I’m already slick and swollen, and if he joined me on the bed and put his hand between my legs, he could get me off in seconds flat.
But he isn’t on the bed with me, and I’m not going to rush this. I rock my hand against myself, applying just enough pressure to my clit to make my eyes float closed.
“Here.” His hard voice has my eyes flying open. He’s leaning over the bed and tugging my panties from my hips in one smooth motion.
I squeak as my ass falls back to the bed, and he gives me that shit-eating grin.
“You have touched yourself without the panties before, haven’t you?”
I take a breath and part my legs farther. He watches, and that’s what does it for me—his gaze between my legs, like that private bit of me is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the rising and falling of his chest as I slide my hands up my inner thighs.
I’ve never done this before—never let a man watch me touch myself. I would have thought it would be awkward or that I’d worry I might look like I was enjoying my own touch more that I enjoyed his, but there’s nothing awkward here, and we both know it’s Nate’s touch I want. All I feel is heat and lust and this need to give him anything he wants.
As I settle on hand over myself, taking my clit between two fingers, I bring my other hand up to my chest and squeeze my breast through my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra, and the sensation of my sensitive nipples scraping across the cotton makes my hips buck and my body ache for more. For his mouth on my breasts, his tongue toying with my nipples until he draws them into his mouth—hard and tight and merciless.
I enter myself with one finger as I imagine it, and he steps closer. I love that I can make him damn near lose his self-control. I imagine his mouth against the flat of my belly before dipping lower.
I squeeze my clit gently. Right where I want his lips. My hips rock faster and his eyes grow hotter.
I’m close. So damn close. But my own hand isn’t enough when he’s right there, when I can reach out and touch what I really want. “Nate,” I whimper.
“Do it, angel.” His nostrils flare as I pinch my nipple through my shirt again. “I want to hear you come. I want to watch.”
“I want you to do it.”
“Do this for me.” His breathing is ragged. As if he’s been holding me up and fucking me hard rather than standing here watching.
I can see what I’m doing to him. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.
“Fuck your hand for me, baby. Just like that.” His words make me wild and my hips move faster, my hand at my breast pinches tighter, and then I’m gone—tightening, squeezing, and exploding into a hard and fast release that’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever been able to give myself.
As I lie limp in bed after, he climbs in beside me and brushes my hair from my face. “I swear to Christ, you are a living fantasy.”