"I'd wanted to touch you like that from the moment I first saw you naked, but that was the first time I had the courage to say so—to do so."
"I couldn't believe how lucky I was," he says. "I still think of that when I do this. I imagine it's your hand on my cock."
"Is that what you're thinking about now?" I ask, a thrill of boldness taking over, if only for a moment.
"Yes. That…and other things.”
"Like what?"
"Your mouth."
"Tell me."
"Laying in bed with you. You kneeling astride me. Moving down my body. Hair trailing over my skin as you kiss my belly. Your hot, tight mouth wrapping around my cock…" he trails off with a quiet groan, his grip speeding up. "Fuck, Sophia."
He dips at the knees, and my lungs seize and my breasts ache and my sex pulses. Dampens, slick with desire for the first time in nearly twenty years.
Lorenzo's fist blurs on his cock, and my hands clench at my sides. The ache in my sex is spreading like wildfire, heat building, sending desire sluicing through me, dripping out of me as I watch Lorenzo pleasure himself.
I can almost feel him in my hand, sliding and stuttering.
"Fuck, Sophia." I meet his gaze, find his hot and wild and fierce and hungry. "With me?"
I know what he's asking. “I…don't know if I can."
"Try, my love," he whispers. "Touch yourself. Watch me. Come with me."
Biting my lip, eyes sliding closed, I cover my sex with my hand, fingers wedged between my thighs. I slip my middle finger against my seam. Panting, afraid the nightmares will erupt all at once and ruin this beautiful moment, this experience with Lorenzo, I drag my finger up the seam…press the pad of my middle finger against my clit.
I gasp.
Lightning sears through me at the touch and my knees shake.
"Yes, Sophia," Lorenzo growls. "Perfect. So fucking gorgeous."
"Lorenzo," I breathe, forcing my eyes open so I can watch him, watch his hand blur on his cock, watch his knees dip and his stomach curl in with his gasps and groans. "Oh god."
"Does it feel good?” he asks.
I swirl my finger in a circle, and sensation rips through me—heat, wetness, desperation. "Yes," I answer, between gasps.
"Don’t stop. I want to watch you come."
"You first," I say.
"I wish it was your hand," he breathes. "I wish you were in here with me. That would be my hand. Better yet, my mouth."
"Oh god, Ren," I breathe.
“Talk to me."
I shake my head, because I have no words, not with the heat and pressure building inside me. It's been so long since I've felt pleasure like this that it may as well be the first time—it's overwhelming and intense, and tears pool in my eyes and a sob hitches in my throat, and the edge of orgasm slides out of reach once more.
I close my eyes, frustrated and embarrassed. I hear the water shut off, hear the shower door open. Tears pool in my eyes—my emotions are at the surface all the time now, ever since I broke down with the girls. I hear fabric rustling. I turn away, shoulders shaking in anger at myself—at everything that’s caused me to be so hung up.
I feel him behind me. I’m drawing deep, hard, slow breaths of panic and embarrassment and frustration.
His hands settle on my shoulders. I jolt at the touch, but then…instead of razors, I feel…him. Calluses and heat.
