J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [462]
As she stirred against him her hip brushed his, and he was surprised as the urge to take her rose. By now he figured he’d be done with that for a while.
He leaned back and looked down his body. Through the slit in the front of his boxers, the head of that thing he’d used on her had escaped, and as the shaft lengthened, the blunt tip pushed out farther and farther.
Feeling as if he were breaking some kind of law, he took the finger that had been running circles around Bella’s nipple and poked at the erection. It was stiff, so it moved right back into place.
He closed his eyes and, with a wince, captured the arousal in his palm. When he stroked it he was surprised at how the soft skin slid over the hard core. And the sensations were weird. Not unpleasant, really. Actually, they kind of reminded him of being inside of Bella, only not that good. Not by a long shot.
God, he was such a sissy. Afraid of his own…dick. Cock? Penis? What the hell should he call it? What did normal males call themselves? Okay, George wasn’t an option. But somehow referring to it as…it, just didn’t seem right anymore.
Now that they’d shaken hands, so to speak.
He let go of the thing and slid his palm under the waistband of the boxers. He was queased out and nervous, but figured he had to finish the Lewis-and-Clark routine. He didn’t know when he’d have the heart to do this again.
He shuffled the…dick, yeah, he’d start with just calling it dick…around so it was inside, but out of the way, and then touched the balls underneath. He felt a shock ride up the erection’s shaft, and the tip tingled.
That felt kind of nice.
He frowned as he explored for the first time what the good Virgin had given him. Funny that all of it had been attached to him, hanging off of him, for so long and yet he’d never done what young, post-transition males no doubt spent whole days doing.
As he brushed over the balls again, they got tighter and the dick got even harder. Sensations boiled in his lower body, and images of Bella popped into his mind, images of the two of them having sex, of him stretching her legs up and going deep into her. He recalled with bone-aching clarity what she felt like beneath him, what that channel of hers did to him, how tight she was….
The whole thing started to snowball, the pictures in his mind, the rolling currents of energy spreading out from where his hand was. His breath grew short. His mouth parted. His body did some kind of surge thing, his hips jerking forward. On impulse, he rolled over on to his back and shoved the boxers down.
And then he realized what he was doing. Was he jerking off? Next to Bella? God, he was a nasty bastard.
Disgusted with himself, he released his hand and started yanking the boxers back up—
“Don’t stop,” Bella said softly.
A frigid blast shot down Z’s spine. Busted.
His eyes went to hers as the blood hit his face.
But she just smiled at him and stroked his arm. “You’re so beautiful. The way you arched just now. Finish it, Zsadist. I know that’s what you want to do, and you have nothing to be embarrassed by. You’re beautiful when you touch yourself.” She kissed his bicep, her eyes going to the tent of his boxers. “Finish it,” she whispered. “Let me see you finish.”
Feeling like an anxious fool, but curiously unable to stop himself, he sat up and got naked.
Bella made a little noise of approval as he lay down again. Taking strength from her, he slowly slid his hand down his stomach, feeling the ridges of his muscles and the smooth, hairless skin that covered them. He didn’t really expect to be able to continue—
Holy shit. The thing was so hard, he could feel his heartbeat drumming through it.
He stared into Bella’s deep blue eyes as he moved his palm up and down. Starbursts of pleasure began to shoot off and flow through his body. God…having her watch worked for him, even though it shouldn’t have. When he’d been watched before—
No, the