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I put my mouth to her ear. “I cannae stop thinking about you and your vibrator. What you look like when you use it. What face you make.”

She makes a small, embarrassed sound and turns away from the mirror. I didn’t really expect her to join in on the dirty talk.

I work a second finger in beside the first. She’s so wet now that the sound of it fills the room, obscene and unmistakable.

“Listen to that,” I say. “You’ve got a beautiful wee cunt, Briony.”

“Ryan!”

She’s appalled. Genuinely appalled. This lassie is naked on my lap with her legs spread and two of my fingers inside her, and it’s a word she can’t handle.

“Sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. I curl my fingers and she forgets to be offended.

My hips have started moving on their own, a slow grind of my cock against the softness of her arse that I couldn’t stop if I tried. I put my mouth back at her ear.

“Imagine my fingers are my dick,” I tell her. “Imagine it’s me inside you.”

Her breath catches.

I keep my fingers buried in her and bring the heel of my hand to her clit. I work her like that, deep and steady, and she starts to move with me. Rocking down onto my hand. Rocking back against my dick.

When she comes the second time, she clenches down on my fingers so hard it makes me grunt. She’s even louder this time, letting out these helpless, rising sounds. I can see in the mirror that she’s embarrassed by them, but she can’t help herself.

Fuck. I leak a little inside my shorts.

Then she goes boneless. Just melts back against me, all her weight on my chest.

I slide my fingers out of her slowly. I’ve half a mind to put them in my mouth and taste her, but instead I hold her wrapped in my arms. She looks utterly wrecked.

“I think that’s you done for the night,” I say. I’d hoped I might get a third orgasm out of her. Had hoped I might even get her permission to go down on her. But she’s exhausted, and she’s had a tough time of it lately—the bruise on her cheek is a reminder of that. I don’t want to push her any further.

“Do you want a shower?” I ask. “I can show you where the bathroom is. Or you can have one downstairs at your place, if you prefer.”

“Wait,” she says. “Is that it? I’ve not even seen you yet.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me, I enjoyed that every bit as much as you did. But I think you need your bed, flower girl.”

“Uh-uh. If this is the only time we’re going to do this, we’re not stopping now.” She slides off my lap, turns, and goes down onto her knees in front of me. “Can you…take it out?”

I watch her for a few moments, trying to figure out if she really wants this. Meanwhile, she eyes the shape of my dick through my shorts expectantly.

Aye, pretty sure she wants this.

I lift my hips and push my shorts and boxers down together, my cock springing free. I kick them off my feet.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s…you’re—” She stops. Swallows. “Goodness.”

I’ll take goodness.

She stares at it for a while longer. I let her. I’m not going to make the next move.

“Can I touch it?” she asks eventually.

“You think I’m gonnae stop you?”

She reaches out. Hesitates an inch away. Then wraps her hand around me gently, like she’s handling something that might break. Her hand is so wee it makes my cock look fucking huge.

She begins to move her hand. Up. Down. Careful. Too careful. Her touch is nice, but nice isn’t what I need.