Page 65 of Sexting the Pakhan

I sit back and strip my shirt off, then stand to open my belt. Her eyes follow every movement. When I push my trousers down and take my cock in my hand, she stops breathing.

I see the nerves return. I expected them.

“Breathe,” I say.

She inhales too quickly, then laughs once, shaky. “That’s not helping.”

“No?”

“You’re…” Her eyes drop again. “You’re a lot.”

“I’ll go slow.”

Her gaze lifts to mine. “Will you?”

“If you need me to.”

Then she reaches for me. Not like a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. But she reaches anyway, wrapping her fingers around my cock with a careful grip that almost makes my knees lock.

Her hand is soft and warm.

I close my eyes for half a second.

“Like this?” she asks.

The uncertainty in her voice is going to kill me.

I put my hand over hers and tighten her grip. “Like this.”

She strokes me once with my hand guiding hers.

A curse scrapes out of my throat. Her eyes darken at the sound. Her hand moves again, more sure this time, dragging over my cock from base to tip. She watches herself touch me, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

“You like that?” I ask.

She nods.

“Say it.”

Her thumb brushes the head of my cock, smearing wetness there. “I like touching you.”

I take her wrist and pull her hand away before I finish right there like a boy.

She gives me a dazed, offended look. “What?”

“You keep doing that, this ends too soon.”

Her eyes widen, and then she smiles.

Small. Wicked. Unexpected. It hits me in the chest and cock at the same time.

“Did I almost ruin your control?” she asks.

I push her back onto the bed and come over her. “You have no idea.”

Her smile disappears when my cock slides against her wet pussy. I rub the head through her slowly, coating myself in her slickness, pressing up against her clit just to hear the sound she makes.

She grips my shoulders. “Ruslan.”