I wake to the sensation of fingers sliding lazily through my folds. The slow, unhurried strokes keep me drifting, but arousal pulls me steadily from slumber.
Each circuit is deliberate. Up to my clit, down to my ass. With every pass, he moves more freely, fingers gathering the evidence of my rising heat. He dips in briefly, not enough to open me, but just enough to make me ache to be filled, to feel my softness against his hard body.
Knowing I’m awake, but giving me time to soak in the morning, he doesn’t rush. His chin presses into the hollow under my ear, like he’s waiting for my breath to change. A soft moan slips out of me. He answers with a quick bite to my neck. My inhale catches.
Taking that as the encouragement he needs, my thighs are yanked apart. He peels the blankets away from my naked body and puts me on display. One leg hooks over mine to hold me open while his eyes roam, slow and hungry.
His fingers pinch together to circle my clit, then separate as they glide past my wet entrance, running along both sides. Then back together again as he circles my puckered hole. Up again. Down again. Soft stimulation, no penetration. Patient, deliberate. He pulls away right when my hips start begging for him.
Eyeing his morning erection, I lick my lips. His cock is delectable, and if I could do anything all day, it would be devouring him inch by inch.
Knowing me as well as he does, he strokes himself and lets me watch. “You want this?” he asks, watching my face while I stare at his thick length.
“Please,” I whisper.
He strokes a little faster. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
“Please,” I repeat, and this time I give him what he wants. “May I have your cock?”
“Too bad. No.” His voice is calm, almost amused. “This morning is about what I want. Torturing you is more fun.”
His hand keeps working, lazy yet sure. The growing mess between my thighs offers little resistance. My hips lift, and he retreats, face smug, movements controlled.
He abandons his cock and kneels between my legs. The sight of his erection bobbing is obscene. I could reach for him, take him in my hand, coax him into giving me what I want. What he clearly needs. But I don’t. I’ll be a good girl. I know he’ll give it to me in his own time.
His fingers return to my clit, and he grips the sensitive nub between his thumb and two fingers. My moist flesh slips easily in his hold. Plucking suddenly, he plunges two fingers deep inside me.
I inhale sharply, adjusting to the sudden pressure. He doesn’t let me settle. Instead, pulling out and filling me again, this time with three. My body clenches around him, greedy, sucking. The room fills with the wet sounds of his thrusts.
He drives his fingers into me harder. His other hand tugs my clit, twisting and turning until it feels almost too much, almost unreal. My eyes roll back and flutter closed.
“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he says, gentle as a kiss. “I want to watch you come apart.”
I force my eyes open. Embracing the torturous movements of his fingers, I lace my hands behind my head and give him my gaze, my obedience, my breath.
Every withdrawal drags his digits against my G-spot. Each sends me closer to the edge.
The climax builds fast, thick with urgency. My breathing turns ragged. A long, broken cry leaves my throat.
He speeds up, fingers pushing into me with purpose, knuckles grinding against my pelvis.
My hips lift off the mattress, desperate for more. He pulls away.
A startled whimper catches in my throat.
He fills me again.
This time it’s four fingers. The stretch makes my head swim. My arousal gushes over his hand, and his answering moan punches through me. His eyes drop to the raw scene displayed between my thighs.
“Think you can take more?” he asks, almost with wonder. “Think I can fit my entire hand inside your gorgeous cunt?”
I can’t speak. I can only moan, low and ruined. My body responds with renewed moisture as I watch him sink deeper.
His thumb lines up with my entrance. Slowly, he pushes forward, keeping my arousal high with tight circles on my clit, keeping me wet, keeping me open. I push back against him, making the claiming of his hand my mission. The pressure is exquisite. The stretch turns pain into pleasure, pleasure into wanton desire.
When I think I can’t take any more, he slides deeper.
Slowly at first.
Then suddenly I’m full.
He pauses and gazes at me like he’s admiring a masterpiece. “Look at you. My hand inside your cunt. Your body drenched with sweat. Your eyes hooded, caressing me with that sultry expression.” His free hand returns to his cock, stroking as he watches. “I can’t wait to watch you come.”
He turns his hand slightly. The shift inside me hits something sharp and perfect, and I know I won’t last. The fullness wars with the hunger for movement. I feel like I might split, but the stretch is delicious, and I want more before he decides to take it away.
His hand flexes, forming a fist as much as my firm flesh will allow. I feel every ridge, every hard line pressing all the right places.
“Touch yourself. I want to watch you,” he says. “Don’t stop until you come.”
I obey, hesitant only because I know what will happen. I circle my clit once, and my body jerks, already too close.
“No stopping,” he warns. “Even when you come. Keep going. Again.”
I try to draw it out. I try to go slow. To soften the pressure. It doesn’t matter. Heat blooms in my belly and detonates through my limbs, turning my muscles into shaking, sparking wire. I cry out, eyes squeezing shut, hips thrusting against his hand as if I can pull him even deeper.
As I descend back to my pre-orgasmic state, he starts to move again, turning back and forth, in and out, and the circular pressure grinds my G-spot while the thrusting lights up everything else.
I focus on his hand sliding over his cock. The head playing peek-a-boo with each caress.
“Rub that clit, beautiful,” he says, voice rough now. “I want to see you come again.”
Moaning, I return to fondling my button and twist it, trying to mimic his previous motions. His hand keeps working inside me, relentless. I watch his forearm flex as he reaches for the perfect angles, his hand hidden behind my stretched flesh. His other fist fucks his cock with hungry speed.
The sight snaps something in me.
I come again, loud and helpless, wave after wave of euphoria tearing through me. He groans loudly, and his seed lands hot over my stomach and breasts. Each pump of his hand covers me with more of the pearly liquid.
I slump back against the pillows, wrecked, watching him slowly withdraw his hand. It’s glistening and pruned. His fingers separate, and long strands of my wetness stretch between them.
He brings two fingers to my mouth and presses them in. “Suck,” he says. “And clean them properly. We have to get to work.”