"Then you'd better behave yourself."
“Behave myself?" I ask.
She smirks, snagging her coat and throwing it over my lap. "Lean back."
She nudges me to lean against the side of the bench at an angle, as if I'm trying to find a comfortable position for napping. She wedges herself between my body and the bench-back, more on me than not, and now it seems as if we're just cuddling together, using her jacket as a makeshift blanket.
"Yes," she says, her smile eager and teasing. “fBehave yourself and I might see how I can…handle…your little problem."
"Who are you calling little, love?"
She tugs my underwear away from my belly, and my cock unfurls to spring upright, and then works my underwear down a bit. I lift my hips, and she shifts them down past my buttocks. My cock aches and strains beneath the warm weight of her shell jacket, and then her hand is smoothing over my belly, teasing past my rigid erection down my thigh, rubbing upward again, and back down my other thigh, avoiding where I need her touch most.
"Fuck," I growl. "Not nice to tease."
"There's a difference between teasing and playing," she murmurs, resting her chin on my chest, watching me as she smooths her touch all over my belly and thighs without ever directly touching my cock.
"And you're playing, are you?" I ask.
I shouldn't be doing this with her. I'm only ruining myself further. The way she sounded, coming for me? I'll not soon forget that. I'll fucking dream of it. Fantasize how tight her pussy is, how wet. The sugar of her juices linger on my tongue, and my cock throbs to have her grab it.
None of this is right.
I'm not supposed to want her like this. Need her.
I'm not supposed to crave her touch. But I fucking do, and I'm a weak man where beautiful women are concerned.
And fuck me if Bryn isn't the most beautiful woman I've ever met.
My usual cocky, demanding banter is absent at the moment, because all that's in my mind is need.
Especially when she slides her hand over my belly until my cock rests on the back of her hand. I bite down on my tongue involuntarily—coincidentally preventing me from uttering the plea that's on the tip of my tongue.
I can't stop my hips from lifting, my ass from flexing to push me upward against her hand.
A growl rattles my chest. "Bryn. Fuck."
"What was it you said to me?" she whispers against my ear, breath hot, words hotter. "Oh yeah. I don't think fucking is an option right now, or you'd be buried inside me."
Her hand slips away, back down my quad, drifting upward along the inner side of my other leg. There's a brief hesitation, and then she cups my balls in her palm—I grunt at the sudden touch, my cock pulsing.
"You'd be so fucking big inside me, Rush," she whispers. "I'd be so fucking tight. How long do you think you'd last?"
"I could fuck you for ages, Gorgeous." I swallow hard, faking a casual, unconcerned tone that I in no way feel; I’m desperate for her to touch me.
"Ages?" She breathes. "I dunno. I think you're about to come right now, and I haven’t even touched you yet."
"You wanna find out how long I'd last inside you?" I say. "Don't test me, love. I'll have you up against the glass if you're not careful."
"Oh? You’re an exhibitionist, are you?"
She whips the jacket away, and now my cock is ramrod stiff in the air, bare and aching. She giggles at the sight of me, a sound of awed disbelief. “Rush, Jesus."
I grin at her. "What, sweetheart? See somethin' you like?"
Her gaze is rapt, hungry. "Fuck yes, I do." Reaching slowly, almost hesitantly, she finally, at long last, curls her fingers around my cock, and I can't even pretend to hold back a long, sighing groan of utter relief at her touch.
I reach for the jacket, but she keeps it out of reach, smirking at me. "Oh no. You want it? It's happening just like this."
