Ricochet (Addicted #1.5)(67)

My nipples stand at attention, his gaze intensifying parts of my body that haven’t been lit up in months. His eyes return to mine, and they’re swimming with eagerness. Phone sex could never work with us. I would miss the looks and glances and the way he devours my body with his amber eyes. He makes me feel utterly and unequivocally gorgeous.

He alone can claim that feat.

Slowly, he begins to slide off his track pants, and I start unbuttoning my jeans. We glimpse each other often, trying to catch the other’s sensual, measured, unhurried movements. Everything below my waist is blocked from his sight, and likewise, the screen cuts him off at his lower abs. The allure of what lies beneath heightens my pulse, heat gathering across my brow.

Clumsily, I wiggle out of my jeans and kick them off the bed. Now on my knees, Lo has a nice view of my green cotton panties. I plop back on my butt so he can only see me waist-up. While Lo undresses, I catch a view of the bulge in his black boxer-briefs. The spot between my legs starts to throb again, aching for something hard to fill it and to thrust for a long, long while.

The silence drags out the tension, nothing but our heavy and shallow breathing. I wait motionless while he removes his last piece of clothing. My eyes fix on the screen in case I can glimpse his cock. But it doesn’t make an appearance. Lo successfully strips off his boxer-briefs without flashing me. Boo.

He raises his boxer-briefs to the camera, dangling them from a finger victoriously before tossing them aside. His eyes meet mine in challenge. My turn.

With one hand, I brace myself on the mattress, and with the other, I roll my panties down my ankles. I bend forward to pull them over my feet, and I think I end up giving Lo a full-screen shot of my boobs in the process. He’s getting way more out of this deal than me. That’s for sure.

My panties rest in my hand, but they are way too soaked for me to lift them up in triumph. I’m about to fling them on the floor when Lo says, “You’re not going to show me?”

Great. I turn them around so he has a view of the butt and hold them to the camera for a split second.

“Let me see the crotch,” he urges in a soft voice. So demanding.

My eyes widen, and I shake my head quickly. No, no that will not be happening.

The corner of his lip rises. “Come on, Lil,” he breathes. “I can’t touch you. How else am I going to know how wet you are?”

I exhale a long, deep breath. I swallow hard and have the sudden longing to run my fingers right over my sweet spot. To feed the monster inside of me.

I take a trained breath and focus on Lo. “Let me see your cock first.” My voice comes across more pleading and desperate than I intended. I don’t even know why I want to see it. It’s not like he can enter me through the computer screen. Really, it’ll only torture me more.

“Not yet, love,” he tells me sweetly.

“Then I’m not showing you my panties again,” I refute stubbornly. I cross my arms over my breasts. For as long as I can remember, I always get what I want during sex. Or at least, I try to. And since I’ve been with Lo, he’s been more than welcoming to give in to my desires. I didn’t realize how difficult succumbing to his orders would be until now. I have to relinquish my control to him—to trust him, to put all my sexual needs into his care.

It’s not so easy for me.

“That’s not how this works,” Lo says. “I’m in charge. If I tell you to come, you’ll come. If I tell you to stop, you’ll stop.”

I need boundaries to harness my compulsions. We’ve talked about this, I remind myself. I drop my arms, exposing my breasts again for him. That’s a start. Lo will provide the guidelines for my limits so I don’t overdo it. I just need to learn how to accept them.

Lo has given himself completely to me. It’s my turn to let him have me.

I obey his first command and turn my panties inside out and raise them to the screen, silently hoping the computer isn’t high-definition. Though, clearly, they’re soaked.

“Satisfied?” I ask after a few seconds.

“Immeasurably.” His grin softens my heart, and my stomach flutters, weakening my resolve. This taunting can’t go on for much longer.

I toss the panties on the floor, and he shifts a little on his bed. But I still can’t see below his waist.

“Hold up your hands,” Lo orders.

I frown and raise my palms to the computer. He gazes at me for a long moment, and I suddenly realize what he’s about to do. I open my mouth to complain, but he cuts me off. “I want us to come together,” he says seriously. “Keep your hands up and when I tell you to touch yourself, you can.”

I surrender at the words come together. I can’t stop nodding, and another smile quirks his lips. Slowly, his hand lowers, and his eyes flicker down a little. His camera is still angled so I can’t see anything below his waist. Maybe that’s the point. Some things are hotter left unseen.

His eyes rise back to mine, penetrating me, not tearing away even as his breathing deepens, the rise and fall of his ribs quickening. His body rocks forward a bit, and small grunts escape his parted lips. My eyes dance around his arm that moves in fast succession, his chest glistening with a layer of sweat, sultry and hot.

“Hands up,” he says in a hoarse tone. I raise them again, not realizing I even dropped them.

I squirm on the bed as I feel the wetness slide down my inner thigh. I grab a pillow and press it between my legs, the spot throbbing for more pressure, more weight, more friction—begging for touch.