Page 11 of Rust and Bloom

I walk back to the pocket doors, glancin' back once at her—she's already got her dress hiked, ass cheeks fallin' out of her lacy panties, waitin' on me.

"Don't move," I say.

I click the doors closed.

Her eyes find mine from over her shoulder and they are filled with lust and longin'.

It's always been like that between us.

We just can't ever get enough.

She's gonna love this weekend, because I already know where we're goin'. It's gonna blow her mind.

I walk back over, my new fancy boots makin' a sexy, menacin' sound on the hardwood floors.

I get behind her, palms goin' to both cheeks at once, squeezin', and she makes this little sound in her throat like she's already forgot how to be quiet.

"Shh," I tell her, but it's just a suggestion, not an order. Just somethin' to say while I look at her.

I drag my thumb along the seam of that lace, slow, watchin' the fabric pull tight and then loose again, and she pushes back into my hand without me tellin' her to.

Greedy. She's always been greedy for me, even when she was fifteen and didn't have the first clue what she was askin' for.

I slide one finger up under the lace and just rest it there a second, feelin' her heat comin' off her skin before I even move.

Then I drag it. Slow, up her crack, and back down again.

"Legion—"

"Quiet now, baby. Be still and enjoy it."

She obeys with her mouth and her body, but her breath betrays her. It's comin' fast now, little hitches in it every time I drag my finger up again, and I take my time, back and forth, not goin' anywhere near where she wants me, just teasin' the seam of her, feelin' her shiver under my palm.

I don't say nothin' filthy. Don't need to. My hands do all the talkin'.

I pull my finger back, and she whines at the loss of it, hips tiltin' back toward me like she can chase it down herself.

I undo what she already started, get my cock free, and wrap my hand around myself, strokin' slow while I look at her bent over like that, ass in the air, waitin' on me.

Then I press the head of my cock right against her cheek. Just rest it there.

She goes rigid. "Oh my god—Legion⁠—"

"Not yet."

I keep strokin' myself, tip draggin' slow against her skin, and she starts movin', can't help it, hips rollin' back tryin' to get me where she wants me, and I just pull back an inch every time she gets close.

"Please—"

"You'll wait." My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.

She makes a sound that's half sob, half laugh, forehead droppin' onto her folded arms on the couch cushion, and I keep goin', slow, deliberate, my cock draggin' against her ass while she writhes under my other hand, tryin' to find somethin' to hold onto and comin' up with nothin' but air.

I hook two fingers in that lace and drag it down, one-handed, still workin' myself with the other. Don't take it all the way off her—just yank it down past the curve of her ass, catch it on her thighs, and leave it there. Lopsided. One side ridin' higher than the other, fabric pulled tight enough it's gotta be bitin' into her skin, and I don't fix it. I like her a little wrecked. Like her strugglin' against somethin' while I take my time.

"Legion, please⁠—"

"I'm right here," I tell her. "Not goin' nowhere, baby. And you can be damn sure I'll be finishin' what you started. So hush now."