Page 51 of Dock

Less because of the word choice but more because of the way she’s just spewing.

Talking.

Not performing like this is an audition to be the right fit for me.

“This is not my first time,” she mutedly hisses, although I’m not sure if it’s to me or herself. “I know how to do this. I know where everything goes. And I know logically where to put things so I um…This is um…” Her hands motion to where they bumped into my abs. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

Crinkles on her forehead are damn near instant. “It’s not that easy.”

“Shit’s not that complicated.”

“Maybe not for you!” The snatching of her fingers away from my crotch results in an unwanted ache appearing in my balls. “But I don’t do this everyday!”

“I don’t jerk off everyday.”

Emmerz mouth twitches, clearly prepared to say one thing only to be shocked into giggling instead.

Good.

She should be relaxed.

It’s a hand job.

Not a bibliography.

“Now,” a slow lick of my lips seems to settle her back down, “put those hands back on me where they belong, Teach…”

With the same amount of thrill but a bit more careful approach, Emmerz’s fingers find their way to my belt.

Undo the buckle.

Let the pieces fall away from one another.

“Button.”

She keeps her eyes pinned on the task, and I love it.

Hate it.

Hate that I love it.

Me watching her watch me shouldn’t have my dick already threatening to let go the second she touches it, getting cum right on her chin so I can study the way it slinks down her neck.

Heads for her tits.

See how she responds when I use two fingers to drag it back up to her full lips.

Fuck. Me.

How the fuck am I supposed to hold on for that shit?

“Zipper,” gets freed through gritted teeth.

The order is followed, sending trembles down her spine during its descent.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I compliment through hooded vision. “Slide your hand in.” They close a little more. “See how fucking hard you make me, Teach.”