Page 109 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“You get one question, buster.”
Her stares at my chest, and I can see him weakening. “Come on, baby, you’re already torturing me with your tits. Give me a follow-up question, and I swear to God, if you say something like you’ve twiddled yourself crazy to a picture of Bodi Banks, I will refuse to ever fuck you again.”
That causes me to throw my head back and laugh. Reese just groans as my hips move on his rapidly stiffening erection.
Mumbling, he says, “You’re killing me. Just answer the damn question.”
“I haven’t masturbated to a picture of you because I’m either at your place having sex, or we are doing FaceTime. But if you want me to, while you’re gone, I will stroke myself while staring at a picture of you. Would you like that?”
“No,” he huffs. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself unless I’m around.”
“I make no guarantees.” I grin, then ask, “Truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
“Hmm.” I tap my finger to my chin, already aware of what I’m going to do but I like to prolong his wait. “What to do, what to do—”
“Paisley . . .” he warns.
“Oh, I got it.” I shift on his lap, getting more comfortable. “I dare you to hold the back of the chair and let me grind on you for one minute.”
He shakes his head. “Fuck, no. Not happening.”
“What do you mean not happening?”
His eyes harden as he says, “Do you really think I’m going to let you hump my hard-as-fuck dick right now, topless, while I do nothing but just sit here, with no chance of touching you?”
“Uh yeah,” I answer nonsensically. “It’s called truth or dare, you have to follow through.”
“I choose truth then.”
“You can’t do that.” I chuckle from how adamant he is. “Once you choose you have to follow through. So you can either let me grind up against you, or I can go home.”
“You wouldn’t,” he dares.
“I so fucking would, handsome.”
Grinding his teeth together, he reaches behind him and locks his hands over the back of the chair. Feminine pride surges through me from being able to tame an alpha male who makes my insides quiver.
“Good boy.” I wink at him and then pull up the stopwatch on my phone. Pressing start, I start my torturous dare.
Running my hands up to the back of my head where I pull my hair together, I move my hips on top of his and prop my chest out just to torture him some more.
It doesn’t take him long to become fully erect. In a matter of seconds I can feel his cock pressing through his thin athletic shorts up into my pussy, begging to be freed of the confines of fabric blocking him.
Even though this was meant to torture him, I know I’m wet and pleasure starts to move through my bones just from the friction I’m creating between us.
Glancing down at Reese, his eyes are fixated on my breasts—heady with lust—his chest muscles pulsing with desire, holding back the thin layer of control he has left.
“Mmm,” I quietly moan, closing my eyes for a second and rolling my head back, loving the way his dick is providing pressure against my soaking clit. I know if I pull away, I would see how wet I am on his shorts, my arousal marking him.
“Fuck,” he says out of breath. “Hell, Paisley.”
The tension in his muscles grows tighter, the tick in his jaw is moving at a more rapid pace, and I can feel a pulse in his cock with every single grind of my hips.
Moving my hips over his crotch has me panting; it has me throbbing to the depths of my center, causing every synapsis to fire up with need. My body starts to tingle; my limbs start to turn into rubber, and my grinding picks up at a rapid pace as I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Every move, every swipe of his thick length against my folds, is a blast of pleasure through my body. Falling forward, I grip his hips and thrust harder, spurring on the inner orgasm building rapidly.
I’m dry humping the shit out of Reese and loving every second of it. My toes start to curl, my stomach bottoms out, and the only true feeling I have is between my legs, soaking up all the erotic pleasure flowing between us.
