The Plus One Pact Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement

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He's good at this. He's already driving me out of my mind. And even though I can feel how much he wants me, I believe he can wait forever. I believe in his endless, impossible patience.

But I'm not having any of it.

I make eye contact in the mirror, and I push my panties off my hips. I don't give him a chance to touch me. Instead, I slip my hand between my legs, and stroke myself.

He watches with rapt attention. Like his fantasy from earlier, but closer, more intimate.

He toys with me, running his thumb over my nipples, sinking his teeth into my neck, but he gives me space to work. He lets me stroke myself as I arch against him again and again.

It feels too good.

I'm too close.

I want to come with him. But then I can. I can come again. And again.

So, I enjoy this. I savor this. The beautiful sight of his body behind mine. The strange feeling of him in clothes while I'm naked. I'm the one on display for him, but, somehow, I feel like I have all the power too.

I come fast. Too fast. My sex pulses with orgasm, my body shuddering, my groans bouncing around the room.

It's not enough. I need more. Need him.

But I'm taking that too.

Once I work myself through my orgasm, I turn around, and bring my lips to his. I kiss him softly, this time.

He matches my pace, swirling his tongue around mine, pulling by body into his.

Then, all of a sudden, he moves faster. Harder. He scrapes his teeth against my lower lip. He does away with his suit jacket.

Then the tie.

I fumble over the buttons of his shirt.

Struggle with his belt.

Button.

Zipper.

So close to where I want to be. And I need that. I do.

I press my lips to his chest then I lower myself to his knees.

His eyes go to the mirror. He watches as I wrap my lips around him. As I take him into my mouth.

I've never felt like a sex goddess. Not really. But with the way his eyes are glued to the mirror, I do.

Fuck.

It's been a long time since I've really enjoyed this. Since I've been in charge of someone's pleasure. Since I've really wanted to finish this way.

I want him everywhere.

But I want him here too.

I take him into my mouth again.

His hand goes to the back of my head. He doesn't push. He leaves it there, guiding me gently, letting me lead.

I tease him with a few flicks of my tongue. Hard and fast. Soft and slow. Clockwise. Counterclockwise.

I find the one that makes him groan, and I do it again.

His hand nudges at the back of my head.

I take him deeper.

I press my tongue against his base and do it again and again.

His eyelids flutter closed. His free hand goes to my breast. He toys with me as I toy with him. It's a perfect rhythm of pleasure.

Then when he's almost there, he opens his eyes. He looks to the mirror, watching the action as I take him again.

I follow his gaze.

There is something about the reflection. I'm naked, on my knees, but I'm the one with all the power. I'm the one in charge of his bliss. I'm the one bringing him to the edge.

Suddenly, I understand why people send sexts, take dirty videos, immortalize their acts.

I want to watch this again and again. To see the two of us dance together forever.

I take in our reflection for one more moment, then I look up at him, and I take him again.

Then he's there, pulsing in my mouth as he comes.

I wait until he spills every drop, then I swallow hard, and sit back on my heels. Ready and patient and proud and finished all at once.

He offers his hand.

I let him help me up.

He pulls me into a tight embrace and brings his lips to my ears. "I'm going to get you back for that."

"I'm counting on it."

He does.

The next morning, after another breakfast game—this time, Amara challenges the guys to use a certain mix of ingredients, like they're contestants on Iron Chef—and a long conversation with Cynthia on nothing in particular. (I let her lead, and she steers the conversation to her favorite parts of San Diego, a place we both found exciting and foreign as kids, even though it's only an hour away).

We break to give Amara time to set up our afternoon activity. And Romeo asks me to take a walk on the beach. He teases me the entire walk with long, slow kisses in semi-private spots. A cave in Pirate's Cove, the beach over the rocks, right off Newport Harbor. An abandoned lifeguard tower. An alley between two shops.

Finally, he sneaks me into the empty backyard, convinces me to dive into the pool in my underwear, and gets me off right there, in the water.


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