Page 39 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter
“Show me?” Dora concluded shockingly.
Christ almighty. He licked his lips. “Show you my cock or show you …?”
“Yes. I mean both. I mean show me how you stroke yourself … down there.”
He breathed shakily in and out again. Instead of answering her, he simply reached across into the hold all, withdrawing the bottle of lotion and inspecting it. A puzzled-looking Dora watched him unscrew the lid and sniff it. It did not smell particularly perfumed, so he took it with him and moved past Dora to the bed where he removed his waistcoat and cufflinks, rolling up his sleeve. Then he slipped off his shoes and unfastened his trousers.
Dora seized a chair and dragged it across the carpet until she was directly opposite him, with only a few feet between them. Clem gritted his teeth. She was so fucking curious. He had not expected that, but if his brain was capable of functioning right now, he would probably find he should have. Dora was a never-ending source of surprise.
She sank into her chair. “I’m ready now,” she announced, her rapt gaze on his crotch.
Clem wanted to laugh, but he did not want to hurt her feelings. He wanted to encourage this boldness in the bedroom, so instead, he unbuttoned his shirt, keeping a covert eye on his audience of one. Dora was frozen in her seat, her lips parted and her gaze steady on his fingers. He doubted her brother’s chest looked anything like his either.
When he reached the last button, he opened his shirt, showing her his muscular belly before lifting his hips and peeling down his trousers, then his long underwear, until his cock was fully on display. It rose proudly to attention and Clem looked at it, wondering for the first time how Dora would view it through her eyes.
Probably his size would be off-putting to a virgin, but when he glanced up, he found Dora leaning forward in her seat to get a better view. Her attention was fully trained upon his dick, and he had to blow out a puff of air to keep focus.
“I am not sure a sock would suffice after all,” she murmured, color creeping into her cheeks.
“A sock?”
“Oh, um, nothing. Just something Mr. Finch suggested.”
Clem tensed. “And why are you thinking of Charlie Finch at this moment?” he asked narrowing his eyes.
Dora gave a wave of her hand. “It was nothing, ignore me,” she said. “Pretend I’m not here.” She smiled encouragingly.
The gesture was so ridiculous that it dispelled his brief annoyance. He gave a huff of laughter and poured a spot of lotion into his palm, rolling it around before wrapping his hand about the base of his cock. He could not resist another glance at Dora, despite her instruction.
Not that she noticed, for she was staring at his cock with a look of rapt fascination on her face. Clem caught his tongue between his teeth and stared to stroke lazily.
“What are you thinking of?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them.
“I’m not thinking of anything,” Clem admitted. “Being here with you is stimulating enough.”
She nodded. A thought occurred to Clem. “Do you want me to finish?” he asked. If so, he would need that washcloth.
“Not yet,” she answered.
He bit off a laugh. “No, I mean, eventually.”
“Yes,” she answered, looking a little unsure.
“Then you need to pass me a washcloth out of the bag.”
“Why?”
Clem shot her a searching look. “You just said you wanted me to finish,” he said slowly. “I meant, spill my seed.”
“Oh!” Dora turned scarlet, then turned to the hold all, fishing around in the bag until she found one. Quickly turning back, she hurried forward and flapped it in the direction of his free hand.
Clem took it from her, looking right up into her eyes. “Why don’t you sit down beside me, Dora love?” He patted the spot next to him.
She frowned. “But I won’t see everything then.”
“You’ll be right up close; you’ll see more.” Grudgingly, she dropped down onto the bed beside him. “Unless you don’t want to.” Dora was peering down at him again. Fuck. It was having an odd effect on him. He felt slightly dizzy.
“Did you just get bigger?” she asked critically.
