What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [92]
With her moist tongue still poised against that soft upper lip, she positioned the vibrator’s tip at her opening, and as she pushed the head into her sweet pussy, clenching her teeth and letting out a small groan, Brent’s stomach contracted. Fuck. He felt this too much. Way too much. He had to move to a bench at the deck’s edge and sit down.
When she pushed the toy all the way in with a heart-stopping sigh, Brent felt almost as if he were sinking into her. The sight stole his breath.
And then she began to slide the fake cock in and out, in and out, moaning softly with each inward drive, and he felt weak watching her pleasure herself for him.
Soon she turned the vibrator on, and those moans grew deeper. His cock ached and he began to sweat despite the sea breeze. He’d selected a toy that came with a nub at the base, designed to stimulate her clit with each deep thrust, and it was easy to tell it was working, especially when she stopped the in-and-out strokes and instead just left it all the way in, simply working the base of the cock against her clit now.
As Brent watched, his focus moved gradually from her cunt to her face. The screen was small, of course, but he could still see how much she had opened herself to him, in every way. The blood drained from his cheeks and his dick felt like it would burst from behind the zipper of his khakis as she moaned and groaned—until finally she came, in a barrage of hot little breaths and then the longer, higher sobs he’d heard from her before.
When the video ended, he simply sat there for a long minute.
Damn—she was so dirty now. Truly a bad girl. He could barely fathom the difference in her from when she’d first arrived.
Except that . . . her surrender, her sexuality, were still too attached to him.
He’d felt much more in control of the whole situation after managing to keep his cock in his pants today at the Grotto, but then—shit—he’d had to go writing that note, telling her he’d imagine her using the toy. If she’d simply used it by herself, on her own, he’d have felt one step closer to making her newfound naughtiness independent of him—but as it was, just the opposite had happened.
Well, he’d have to think about how to change that—but for now, the horny guy in him just played the video again and got a monster hard-on as he watched it a second time.
After which he finally returned to Danny and cold barbeque with an apology—but no matter what he did after that, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jenna.
Hours later, Brent lay in the hammock next to his bungalow, listening to the waves crash on the shore and watching as Jenna fucked herself over and over again with the toy he’d sent her. He felt like an eighteen-year-old kid seeing his first porn movie—for some reason, he couldn’t get enough. She was so . . . innocent. And yet not. She somehow straddled both ends of the spectrum.
The truth was, he wanted to call her, or just go to her room. He wanted to fuck her brains out. He wanted to give her what she’d begged for today. Begged. Jenna. She’d gotten so good, so fast, at expressing her desires. “My dirty, dirty girl,” he whispered toward the tiny screen on his phone.
He wanted to fuck her tonight—but he couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
Tomorrow she’d have another fantasy. And he’d be involved—yet so would others, so at least it wouldn’t be . . . intimate.
Then again, somehow the harem fantasy had turned intimate between them, and even the dungeon fantasy, by the time it was over, had felt very much like they were the only two in the room. But he’d at least try to make tomorrow’s fantasy different. He was giving her something he thought would appeal to everything inside her—but in the end, this time, he wouldn’t give her . . . him. He’d just decided that part, right now. He wouldn’t fuck her tomorrow. He’d keep reinforcing that this wasn’t about him—it was only about her. Even if it killed him.
And it might, he decided as he finally unzipped his pants and took out his straining cock.
Dick in hand,