Aden

Chapter Eighteen

Leila

I reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it up and over his head. I ran my hands up and down and all over his body, wanting to memorize the hard planes, the broad shoulders, and the love poem he had etched onto his skin which I took my time tracing over and over again with my fingers.

My fingers moved between the patch of hair in the center of his chest that led down to the apparent Adonis line. I moved a little lower and admired the view of his body.

He didn't speak, didn't rush, didn't command. He could have, but he didn't. He let me have this moment and go at my own pace without added pressure and I loved him more for it.

He simply watched me admire him with my hands. I love the feel of his chest and back and arms and God I was starved for him. His eyes were dark as they watched me, and I could feel them on me, holding me a prisoner as my fingers skirted over to the band of his pants.

My breathing sharpened as I felt his erection digging into me from where I was sitting, and I found myself pressing down on him. His eyes shined from the movement, but he made no attempt to reach out or take over.

I wiggled off his lap and placed my hands on his knees as I pushed them apart. I nestled between them and reached for the band of his sweats.

"God, the fucking sight of you kneeling before me.... fuck, Leila, I'm not gon' last long. Not like this, not when you're on your knees for me."

He helped me take off his sweats along with his boxers and when they reached the ground, he kicked them to the side. His fingers caressed my chin tenderly and then lifted it so I could look up at him.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He murmured. "So beautiful and all mine. Aren't you, baby?"

"Yes," I agreed breathlessly. "All yours."

He didn't drop my chin or release his hand, instead forcing me to keep up with the intense and passionate eye contact.

"Play with me, baby. Wrap your hand around my cock. Fucking feel how hard I am for you."

My hand reached out from under me, and I wrapped my hand around him. He was hard, thick, and hot and growing even harder as I stroked him. His lips parted and I enjoyed how he was making us watch each other like this. I was turned on by touching him and seeing him turned on was hot.

I squeezed him tighter, stroking him rougher, and low grunts tumbled out of his mouth. His eyes were so dark that the blue was completely gone and the crazed and frantic look in them had my core clenching.

I could hear the jumble of our heavy breathing, the way he licked his lips, and then his hand left my chin to wrap around the front of my neck extracting a low whimper from me.

His cock jerked in my hands, and he groaned deeply as my other hand came up to play with his balls. I wanted to use my mouth, to taste him, to feel him hitting the back of my throat, but it was evident he didn't want that. Not right now, anyways.

"Just your hands, baby. Just your hands are enough for me." He reassured me as if he could read my mind. "I want this picture of you on your knees, with your hand on my cock, and mine around your neck tattooed on my fucking body. I should take a photo and hang it up in my room on the wall so I could look at it every night before I sleep."

I stroked him faster, his words igniting an uncontrollable fire in my gut as I pumped his ever-growing cock in my hand.

I craved to touch him better, to taste him, but if this was enough for him then it was enough for me. His thumb skirted against my pulse, and he briefly closed his eyes as he listened to it.