I could probably come from him suckling on my breasts alone, and almost did.

His hips rock up, and I swear that hard bulge in his jeans has grown even bigger.

He releases his grip on my hip and then his rough palm drags down my thigh.

“I want to be the only man who makes you wet,” he rasps, and then his hand is pushing between my thighs.

My panties are pushed to the side and then those wonderful, thick fingers of his slide through my folds.

“Ah, fuck. You’re soaking wet, baby,” he groans. He slides his fingers back and forth, gliding along my wetness.

I bite my lip and close my eyes, fighting the need to rock my hips. Fighting the need to find a way to work those thick fingers into my needy sex.

His thumb finds my clit and begins to rub in small, tight circles.

“Johnathan,” I moan.

His fingers quicken, driving me quickly to the point of orgasm.

“Beth, I want to be the only fucking man who makes you come.”

His fingers work fast and furious until I’m crying out.

I’m so close. So close.

My muscles tighten in anticipation. The pressure inside me expands and expands.

I’m about to explode.

The world around me starts to turn white and then he just stops.

His thumb leaves my clit, dragging through my folds teasingly. I blink, trying to bring the world back into focus.

What the fuck?

Johnathan chuckles and pulls his hand away from me altogether. Working between us, he unbuckles his pants and pulls his cock out.

I look down and watch as he grips his shaft in a fist and pumps it up and down.

I’ve never watched a man stroke himself before, and even though I’m a little pissed he just left me hanging, I’m also fascinated by the way his skin bunches up near the head and then smooths back down.

“In this life, if you want something you gotta take it.”

Is he serious?

I glance back up.

The look on his face is so hard, so intense, I have no doubt.

“Are you going to take it, Beth?” he growls.

Fuck. Do I want him bad enough to do this?

I glance back down.

His cock is a deep, angry red, and there’s this pearly, white liquid leaking from the head.

“Touch me,” he urges.

I want to. I want to know what he feels like in my hand, but, “My arms are trapped.”

With a sound of annoyance, he grabs the bottom of my dress and then rips it up, over my head.

“Touch me,” he urges again, tossing the dress away.

I bite my lip and tentatively reach down.

The tips of my fingers brush against his cock, and when it jerks, I yank my hand away in surprise.

He chuckles. “Come on, it’s not going to bite you.”

His hand finds my hand and guides me back to his shaft.

He groans with pleasure as I wrap my fingers around him and suddenly I feel so powerful.

I try to mimic what I watched him do. I pump my fist slowly up and down.

His skin is smooth and hot to the touch. There’s this silky, velvety quality to it that just glides against my palm.

I work my hand up and down, my strokes coming faster and faster.

He groans as if he’s in pain, and a little, evil part of me likes it. That is until his hand moves and his thumb finds my clit again.

He presses his thumb against me, once more working it in tight circles.

The orgasm I was so close to achieving earlier comes back with a vengeance.

My hand quickens, my strokes coming faster and faster, matching the need I’m experiencing.

Once more, I’m so close. So fucking close I can taste it.

Johnathan groans with agony. I can feel his precum leaking all over my hand.

My core clenches. The first tremor is about to hit. I give myself up to it, letting go with abandon, but then I come crashing back down to my senses.

“If you want it, Beth, fucking take it,” Johnathan says harshly, and his thumb leaves my clit.

I cry out at the loss.

My body is literally shaking from being cut off.

My clit throbs painfully, and I just can’t stop myself from clenching on empty air. My skin is so raw, so sensitive, if I don’t do something about this pent up pressure inside of me, I feel like I might literally fucking die from it.

But I just can’t do it. With a slow, dawning sense of horror, I realize I don’t want to take at all.

I want to be taken.

Johnathan stares into my eyes and then he grins as if he can read my mind. “If you want something, take it, Beth,” he repeats, and I want to scream in frustration.

Why is he making me do this? Why doesn’t he just push himself on me like he did last time?

I stare into his eyes, just about ready to slam myself down on his cock as my consolation prize, when I figure it out.

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