Trading Tides Read Online Free PDF Page B

remembered it starkly: his fingers, the water, the smacking sound thrown back by the bathroom walls when he rubbed, fast and hard. In and out.
    I’d loved it then, and later spent accumulative hours getting off to that memory, and still—it was different when I had to do it. Even doing it alone was different. Dirty. And I cringed at the idea of his eyes on me, witnessing.
    He knew though. Maybe he’d seen the look on my face when he’d first told me to start practicing, or heard the flutter in my voice. But he knew. Just like I knew he was making it hard for me on purpose—because I’d seen that in his face. It seemed contradictory, but it made me miss him more, want him more.
    “Are you going to be good?” He paused, let his eyes wander to the tub of lube and then up to the camera, so that it felt like he was staring directly into my eyes. “Are you going to be a good girl, and show me how obedient you can be?”  
    I nodded so hard my chin hit my chest. “Yes. Yes, Sir.”
    Of course, I did. I wanted him to be proud of me—even for something as small, as embarrassing as that. I wanted to prove that I was a good girl, his good girl and I don’t think I could have born letting him down. He knew that, too.
    “Do you… want to see?” I asked, stammering and feeling stupid, but this time he didn’t make me say the actual words. He shook his head.
    “I don’t want you to move. I want you to stay right here, looking at me. Look right at the camera when you finger your ass for me, pet. Do it now.”
    His words shot through me, pulsed softly in my clit. Damn him. Damn his beautiful face and his hands and his voice and how much I wanted him. I unclipped the lube with shaking hands, squeezed a bit on my finger and reached back. I was already lying on my side and it was easier when I pulled my knees up into a fetal position.
    I looked into his face for a suspended moment, he nodded and I looked up at the tiny black eye of the camera.
    I pushed my finger against the ring of muscles. I flinched, fought against the need to squeeze my eyes shut. I breathed through it, heady and good and wrong.
    “Deeper. Push it deeper.”
    His voice was hoarse, and I nodded, swallowing against the dizzying need. I moaned when I pushed my fingers past the knuckle. The camera lens blurred before my eyes.
    “In and out now, slowly.”
    Yes, it felt dirty, and wrong in all the right ways. His directions made it easier, though; my hand was his tool, I just moved it, and with each new word he uttered, it felt more like he was fingering my ass, not me.
    “Have you tried two before?”
    “No, Sir,” I coughed out, but already, I was begging him to make me try it then. Not with words, I wasn’t quite ready for that, but with my eyes and my voice.  
    He hesitated, watched me as I fucked myself. He hadn’t told me to stop and so I kept going, and each time I pushed the knuckle back and forth my breath grew shallower and another little moan escaped my throat.
    “Try it for me now, pet. Two fingers.”
    His word was my code of law, my world, and I obeyed. I sounded like an animal, a guttural groan that echoed through my apartment, and then I pushed harder and rolled my eyes back into my head. It felt full, and hard.
    “There you go, that’s a good girl. That’s my beautiful girl.”
    And so I pushed harder. I fucked myself until the world around me started to fade, until it was made up only of Paul and I and the aching, desperate need to come.
    “Please…” I know I said it, whined it, gasped it between moans, over and over. “Please, Sir?”
    “Please what, pet?”
    “Please… I need, please, please may I come?”
    It could have been a rote, trite game but it wasn’t, not then. My free hand was literally shaking, yearning to cup my cunt, to find a way to reach the apex of this swirling mountain of need. “Please?”
    The words just came. They added to my pleasure and in the corner of my eyes I could see they added to his as