I brace myself against the slick tiles, my chest heaving with harsh, ragged breaths as Clayton's eyes blaze into mine. The heat between us is a living, breathing thing, a palpable force that crackles in the air like an electric current.
"Clayton," I manage, my voice a breathless rasp. "We need to... call the guards."
My words would probably have a little more punch if I wasn't still working my fingers between my thighs. His eyes fall from my face to my hands, and he steps forward.
A thrill rushes through me, and I spread my legs a little farther. "The guards," I prompt, even as I bring myself to yet another orgasm, panting as my face flushes with its heat.
I want his fingers, not mine.
I want his tongue, not his fingers.
I want his cock, not his tongue.
I want…
Fuck, I can't handle this.
