Page 114 of Stay Scared

His fingers shift, and the first stroke almost buckles my knees. Owen catches my waist with his free arm before I lose balance.

I grab his shoulder. “Again.”

He does it harder. My hips press into his hand. The camera sees exactly where he is touching me. It also sees my fingers locked around his wrist.

Owen’s mouth finds mine again while his hand works between my thighs and his other arm keeps me dragged tight against him. He catches every change in my face, every hitch in my hips, every place my grip tightens.

I adjust his wrist. “Keep that angle.”

He answers by keeping his fingers exactly where I put them.

Pressure builds fast.

My free hand catches the edge of the desk. Owen’s mouth moves toward my jaw, but I drag him back by the hair and kiss him again.

Owen removes his jeans, releasing his cock. It’s thick; for a moment I wonder if it will fit, but then he pushes me down, sliding it in fully- no buildup. I’m wet enough; I didn’t need it, and he takes me exactly as he’s thought about, watching himself enter me. Knowing the cameras are watching me take every inch of him, the feeling, the sensation is almost too much to take.

Release hits hard enough that my knees soften.

Owen catches me before I fold, one arm locked around my waist while I come around his penis, his thrusting never slowing, letting me drag out my orgasm and finish first before he follows me. The sound that comes out of his throat is so sexy I want to do it again.

The camera keeps rolling.

I can picture exactly what it sees. This time the lens belongs to me.

Owen slows only when my grip loosens, until the last tremor passes.

The extraction timer reads 01:42.

I kiss him once more, slower but still hard enough that his fingers dig into my waist.

We both get dressed.

“Don’t.”

Owen stops.

“You’ve seen more than this.”

“I have.”

“And now you look away.”

His back stays toward me. “You stopped showing me.”

I pull the shirt over my head.

The injured shoulder catches inside the sleeve.

“Damn it.”

Owen turns instantly. “Hold still.”

He comes close and finds the twisted fabric near my shoulder. His knuckles brush my arm while he works it free without dragging the sleeve over the bruise.

The touch lasts only as long as the problem does.

I gesture toward my jacket.