She tilts her head, looking up at me from her spot on the floor, and as if it has a mind of its own, my hand strokes my cock again, shuttling down the ridges and squeezing. “Sex is fun, but it can be low-key and slow, or it can be lighthearted. It can just be touching your partner to get her off. It doesn’t have to be like it is in the vids, where everything’s extreme and sometimes violent.”
“So you don’t choke your partners and call them cum-sluts?”
“Never in my life.” It’s a struggle to find the air for words when she says shit like that. Kef me, what sort of porn were they giving her? I want to turn this ship back around and go to Port and slam my fist into every guard there. “I would only choke you if you wanted it, and not hard. And I’m not much of a dirty talker.”
“Why not?”
I stare down at her earnest face. “Because I don’t want to call you bad names or degrade you. You’re special to me, and I would want to treat you special.”
She smiles, pressing her fingertips against her lips. “I like being special to you. So how would you talk to me in bed then?”
Kef. I walked into that one. “Ah…I’d probably just be encouraging? Tell you how amazing you are and how much I like touching you?”
Helen seems satisfied with that answer. She leans in, continuing to study my cock, and more pre-cum drips down the tip. “You only have one piercing.”
“I don’t need more to show a female a good time.”
“I don’t have any piercings. What does it feel like?” She reaches out a finger, and for a moment, I think she’s going to touch my cock, but she pulls back in the last second and I feel…disappointed?
I shrug, gripping myself like a keffing youth and unable to let go. “It’s there for your partner. Sometimes it tugs a little when I move, but overall it’s something a male gets to show his mate he’ll be a good lover.”
Her expression gets dreamy. “Would you be a good lover to me?”
“Of course.” The words seem inadequate, so I add, “I’d make sure you come before I do. Every time.”
“What if I’m more interested in you coming?” Helen asks. She leans forward and then looks up at me, her eyes wide and full of anticipation. “Can I touch you? Can I make you come tonight?”
I have to close my eyes, or else I’m going to keffing lose control. I can feel more pre-cum beading on the tip of my cock at her words, and I squeeze the base, though that doesn’t help things much. “Helen, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Remember that we’re going slow—”
“But I don’t want to go that slow,” she protests. “I want to touch you. You can touch me, too, if you want. I would love for you to touch me, too. Don’t you want to?”
This is torture. Sheer torture. “You know I do.”
“Then what’s the harm?” Her voice turns soft, coaxing. “What’s the problem if we touch each other a little and make each other feel good? You said you’d be respectful. I will, too. I’ll be so good to you, Mathiras.”
Breath hisses from between my teeth and I stroke my cock again.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Helen whispers, and I open my eyes just in time to watch as she reaches out and brushes a fingertip over the head of my cock. She looks up at me, her eyes a gorgeous shade of dark violet as she smiles up at me and then turns her attention back to my cock. “You’re so warm. I never thought about it being warm. I’ve imagined what it’d feel like to touch you, but I didn’t think about that part.” Her fingers stroke the underside of my shaft, tracing along my length and making my sac tighten into a hard knot. “Warm and very, very hard.”
And then Helen wraps her hand around the base of my cock and gives me a squeeze, and everything inside me explodes with need.
“You want me to show you?” I growl, sliding my hand over hers. I begin to pump, slow and hard, dragging her hand over my shaft. “I’ll show you, sweet Helen. I’ll show you just what I like.”
She lets out a little moan of excitement, and that only encourages me more.
CHAPTER 39
HELEN
I gasp with fascination as Mathiras uses my hand to stroke himself. He’s hard and enormous in my grip, but I don’t get time to enjoy that because he moves my hand roughly up and down his length, dragging me over ridges and squeezing my grip. His hips jerk with the movements, and I worry he’s going to hurt himself. We’re being so rough that it can’t possibly feel good, right? But when he squeezes my hand again, his breath catches, and I realize he likes it like this. Just rough and wild and messy.