Another finger slides in, as his thumb begins to rub my taint.
My nipples tighten, but I hold in all my moans. “Why lube and not oil?” I breathe, before pulling my lips into my mouth.
“I didn’t have time to dilute any oil so it doesn’t fuck witchu. Lube works just the same. I’m about to add another finger, aight? I gotta stretch you out.”
I barely get my okay out before another finger fills me.
And then he starts rotating.
Stretching me out like he said he would.
Piercing hennessy eyes never leaving mine. Never checking to see just exactly what he’s doing to me.
Because this ain’t no got damn perineal massage.
Especially when his fingertips graze my G-spot and I feel his fingers curve inside of me.
He carries on with his torture. There’s no end in sight. Just his fingers working me, filling me, curving inside, stretching me.
And like a bitch in heat, my hips begin to move with them, trying to chase an orgasm that’s been building since he first told me to come up here.
“Shaddy,” I whisper.
“Yes, Mace?”
“Please.”
“Please what?” He starts to slow his fingers but I clench around him.
“Don’t stop,” I blurt out.
“Don’t stop what? The massage?” He blinks, but keeps moving, working me agonizingly slow.
“I’m right there, please–”
“Please what, Mace? Use your words, shorty.”
I lick my lips and lift my chin. I wasnotfamiliar with Rahshad Kaleel Washington’s game. But I’m a quick study, and Mika Davenport ain’t raise no punk bitch.
“Rub my clit,” I mutter. “And curve your fingers up.”
Shaddy’s fingers stop altogether for a fraction of a second before he rotates them until they’re grazing my G-spot. I grunt softly when he curves his fingers.
His eyes never leave mine, and I can’t blink, so I don’t miss the darkness that begins to take over his face. He pulls his other hand toward him while letting a glob of his spit fall from his mouth onto his thumb. How he knows where to drop it without looking? I don’t know.
My eyes begin to roll to the back of my head when his fingers begin to move inside of me.
“Nuh uh, Mace. Eyes on me.”
They flutter open, and the moan that slips out when his wet thumb starts rubbing tight circles on my clit is obscene.
My hips move more and more, chasing my orgasm. The wet noises coming from me are fighting with my moans to see who’s the loudest. My toes curl as my heels are barely on the couch, keeping my legs open.
And all he does is peer back at me. Face blank, even as his arm muscles contract. He hasn’t looked at my pussy once. It doesn’t even look like there’s lust in his eyes.
Just darkness. And maybe a hint of morbid joy?
I don’t have time to decipher that because my orgasm finally crests, and my pussy sucks his fingers all the way in.
