Free Divine Solace: 8 by Joey W. Hill

couldn’t see her face. “Earlier today…I
thought about you reading to Lyda.”
    “One of those erotic novels she likes to torture me with?”
    So maybe Lyda had actually done what she imagined, taunting
him at a distance. Things curled low in her belly. “Yes.”
    He was staring into the darkness of her bedroom. Setting
aside his book, he turned on his hip, propping his head on his hand. When he did,
the sheet moved with him, getting trapped between his thighs, sliding down a
little lower. She gulped as it became apparent he wasn’t wearing anything
beneath it, the upper curve of one buttock haloed by the lamp behind him. If
she was standing behind him, she could let her fingers slide along that curve,
up over his tattoos.
    “I imagined you—” She stopped, cleared her throat. “I
imagined her in a short negligee, nothing else. Lying on her bed, touching
herself while you read to her. She had you sitting in a chair across the room.
She wasn’t letting you touch her.”
    “She’d tell me to keep my eyes on the page, and punish me
once a day for every time I stole a glance at her. Which means I’d probably be
punished for a month.” His lips curved, but his eyes remained serious.
    “How does she punish you?”
    “Various ways. What were you going to say, at the first?” He
prompted her. “‘I imagined you…’”
    She didn’t say anything, and he shifted to his back. She bit
her lip as he stretched out an arm, his upper body arching as he turned off the
lamp, putting them both in darkness. She could see his silhouette from the
street lamps outside his window. He turned back on his hip toward her. “What do
you want, Gen? Anything.”
    His voice was encouraging, but also male and intent. Lust
pulsed on the air currents between them.
    “I want you to bring yourself to climax while I watch. I
don’t want you to look at me while you do it. Pretend I’m not here.”
    “All right. Do you want the light on?”
    “Yes. The lamp’s a three way. Could you turn it on to the
dimmest setting?” Things needed to stay hazy, dreamlike. Else she might chicken
out. “And…I want to see all of you.”
    She bit her lip, almost saying he didn’t need to do that,
but he was complying. He switched the light on the dim setting, then pushed the
sheet to the side, adjusting his legs over it. Her gaze coursed over the arches
of his feet, over light sprinkles of brown hair on calves and the long lengths
of his thighs, then paused over his testicles and the cock rising above them, a
thick stalk curving over sectioned stomach muscles. He had his thighs spread so
she could see all of it. Propped up on the pillows, he rested one hand on his
thigh, the other curled over his head.
    Liquid heat pooled in the folds of flesh between her thighs.
She wanted to tuck her fingers down there, give herself that pressure, but even
though she was in darkness, she was too self-conscious for that. Right now.
    “I’ve been with a Dominant for so long, off and on, I don’t
really do this by myself without permission anymore. But I think I remember how
it’s done.” Another of his charming, self-deprecating looks. He grasped his
cock, gave himself a firm stroke. Her breath caught in her throat, a
contraction of hard need between her thighs.
    “I wish I could see you,” he said. “Are you…will you tell me
if you’re wet?” His voice was husky, telling her—as if his cock didn’t—that he
wasn’t detached in the least.
    “Yes. I am.”
    A muscle flexed in his jaw and he stroked himself some more.
She wrapped her arms around her pillow, shifting so she was staring a straight
line to him, her breasts full and aching against the pressure of the cushion.
    “Tell me what you’re imagining.” She whispered it, but he
heard her.
    “You…naked. Sitting on my legs, just staring down at me
doing this. You’re breathing fast, shallow, so your breasts are quivering a
little…bit.” He gave a groan, tightening his hand on himself.