Gasping, she blinked through the water running down her face. Thick smears of makeup were pooled under her eyes.
God help me, I loved seeing her like this.
Lyssa Luxe was a mess of a person, obsessed with trying to manage and fight who she was. Here, with me, she could be as messy as she wanted.
I fucking loved her mess.
“Keep finger fucking yourself,” I ordered.
“Mike—”
“Big breath,” I said again, and that was all the warning I gave her. Back under the water she went. But this time, her rapidly moving hand churned through the water, working her clit.
One, two, three.
Her head split the surface the second I took my hand off her chest.
Pushing dripping slicks of dark hair off her face, she begged, “Please, Mike!”
I studied her wild eyes and heaving chest. “Please what?”
But she hesitated, so back under she went. Just for two seconds this time. I didn’t actually want to restrict her air. I just wanted to shock and distract her.
When Lyssa came back up the third time, she was more vocal. “Please, Mike, please,” she begged. She was almost in tears, and something dark and hungry roared in my belly. “Please put your cock in me, or your fingers, or something.”
“Why, Princess?”
“I need it!” she sobbed. “I need you inside me. I want to be filled.”
Her words were like a string wrapping around my dick and tugging. I fantasized about pulling her out of there right now, sinking her down on me, bare; and making her ride me until she’d milked my cock dry. I’d fuck her so full of cum, some would run back out down her thighs, my filthy, slutty Princess.
It made my balls ache imagining it.
But that was what I needed.
“No,” I answered her, my voice rough. “You don’t need my cock to come. You have everything you need. Put your fingers in your pussy. Two fingers. Now.”
My sexy little mess didn’t argue or hesitate, like she would have ten minutes ago. Instead she spread her knees and tilted her pelvis up. It was hard to see under the milky water, but when her whimper broke off into a gasp, I knew she’d plunged her fingers to the hilt.
“That’s it,” I crooned, “just like that.”
She was so wet and ready, her hand moved easily. I put my arm back behind her head so she didn’t hurt herself as she lost control. With a breathy curse, she leaned back against my arm as her hand began to pump harder, faster.
She was perfect, incredible. Mine.
When her body began to tremble and she moaned one long, desperate sound, I nearly had to stuff a fucking fist in my mouth. I was white-knuckling the side of the bath now, my cock painfully hard. I tried to shift my stance, hoping it might subdue things, but there was no help for it. What I wouldn’t give for her to jerk me off later with that same hand she’d fucked herself with.
“Like—” Lyssa broke off with another one of those keening sounds I wanted to record and set as my morning alarm. “Like this, Mike?”
“Yeah, Princess.” I growled. “In and out. Feel how tight you are.”
Lyssa did as I told her. Dunking her had done wonders for her listening skills.
This was why I was a fucking genius and people should always listen to me. I knew this girl wouldn’t have any problems coming if she’d just trust herself and stop letting limp-dick office creeps make her believe she was lacking. She’d needed a crude motherfucker like me to show her she was gorgeous, perfect, incredible—the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.
Lyssa’s eyes were starting to roll back now. She was close.
The straps of her dress had slipped off her shoulders, baring her breasts. Her nipples poked through the surface of the water. I licked my lips. What I wouldn’t give to suck on those little buds—to lick and tease them until they were bright red and wet, as she writhed for me.
