Page 74 of The Match Faker
My heart lurches, and I yank my hand away on instinct. “I’ll be right out.”
Nick lied, yes, but he also agreed to help a woman, a random stranger, when she asked for it. I’ve never thanked him for that.
Nick is on the bed when I open the door, one hand behind his head, the other tucked under the waistband of his boxers. His jeans are open, and his T-shirt is pulled up, revealing a patch of pink skin and dark hair. His eyes travel the length of my body, twice, as I stalk toward him, plant one knee on the bed, then the other, and straddle his legs.
“What do you want?” I ask. My heart pounds and blood whooshes in my ears.
His irises are black holes, void of all color.
“You,” he says simply, reaching out.
I grip his wrist and push him back down. “No. What do youwant? I’ll give you anything.”
He drags his hand down his mouth. Shakes his head. “Jasmine.” But he says it like he might be a little disappointed. “Go over there.” He pats the pillow next to him. “Lean back. Spread your legs.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I flush. It’s embarrassing how turned on I am by such simple words, how the rasp of his voice combined with the casual command make me wet. I settle myself against the pillow
Without a word, he frowns and gives his head a shake. He pulls me upright and shoves two more pillows behind me, until I can sit comfortably reclined with my knees bent, legs apart. He hops off the mattress, tugging his shirt over his head as he goes, then shucks his jeans. From a drawer in a cabinet next to the bed, he pulls out a condom and lube.
“I don’t think you’re going to need that,” I say with a nod to the bottle of clear liquid. He must be able to see my arousal painting my pussy, my lips plump and shining.
He shrugs. “Can never be too prepared.”
Oh god, even that is hot to me.
Finally, he settles on his knees at the end of the bed. His erection strains against the material of his underwear. He doesn’t bother hiding that or the way he can’t take his eyes off me.
“Touch yourself?”
Though I’d usually be mortified to do this in front of a man, Nick wrung any shame out of me last night. I follow the same path I found in the bathroom, my breasts, my nipples, my stomach. I circle my hole, my clit, paint my lips with my wetness. When I plunge my finger into my pussy, a flame ignites in my core and my toes curl.
Nick does nothing. He doesn’t touch himself or me. He watches, his eyes huge, his face flushed, wearing an expression of sheer wonder.
It takes no time at all for my orgasm to gather inside me, an invisible string that I pull tighter and tighter. “Can I come?” I ask, the words choppy.
He touches me for the first time, a gentle hand on my knee, pushing it open after I let it fall too far closed for his liking. “Of course you can, baby.”
He takes his cock out, squeezing the head, hard and shining, leaking pre-come across the bedspread. He holds himself as he watches me make myself come, my middle finger moving over my slick clit.
“You come so pretty,” he says softly as my fist clenches and my back arches. “God, look at you.” He’s vocal where I am quiet, biting my lip, only allowing the softest moans and quietest whines to escape. “I can’t wait to fill you up.”
The image of that, his cock inside me, what it will feel like, the relief of it, sends me into another orgasm, or maybe it prolongs the one I’m already having. I can’t tell.
“You like that?” he asks, his voice closer now.
I open my eyes. I don’t know when I closed them. He kneels between my legs, the condom in his hand.
“Yes.” My voice is high-pitched and needy. “Please.”
“I’ll give it to you, then,” he says simply before opening the package with his teeth, rolling the rubber down his length.
“I have an IUD,” I say. “Just as back up.”
He nods, attention locked on my face. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“When I’m fucking you,” he says, almost sparking a third orgasm. “Will you be rough with me?”