My breath slows automatically.
“You’re not going to rush this.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
"Now the panties. Slide them off and spread your legs. I want you open for me."
My pulse races as I comply, the fabric peeling away from my soaked folds with a soft, wet sound. I part my thighs, the air teasing my swollen clit.
“Stay like that,” he says.
I still instantly.
His eyes track every movement. Every shift.
“You’re already worked up,” he adds quietly. “You’re glistening. All of that for me.”
My breath catches. “I?—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Just answer what I ask.”
My lips part. I nod.
“I’m going to tell you what to do,” he continues, voice dropping lower. Rougher. “And you’re going to do it exactly the way I say.”
My pulse pounds. I nod again.
“Use your words,” he says.
“Yes.”
His gaze lingers on me, satisfied.
“Better.” That’s enough. He leans back slightly, one hand moving out of frame, and my gaze drops immediately. I can’t help it.
He notices. A slow smile curves his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Look.”
"Oh God," I whisper, my eyes widening at the sight.
It’s even bigger on screen, close up now, veins bulging under his grip, pre-cum beading at the slit.
My stomach flips. He’s pacing this. Controlling it. Every second.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks.
My throat tightens. “You,” I admit.
“Good.” A pause. Heavy. "Touch yourself, Ivy. Circle your clit with one finger. Slow. Don't rush."
I obey, my fingers dipping between my legs, slick with arousal.
The first brush sends a jolt through me, my hips bucking slightly.
I bite my lip, stifling a moan, my body language screaming submission—legs splayed wide, back arched, free hand gripping a pillow.
"I see that shiver. You're dripping, aren't you? You’re already wet and I’m not even there. Not even touching you.” He pauses. “Pinch your nipple—hard. Imagine it's my teeth."
I gasp, tweaking the sensitive bud, the pain mixing with pleasure, making my pussy clench around nothing.