Allyson's POV
Michael's breath hitched, his entire body responding as I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking with deliberate slowness from the base to the swollen tip, savoring the weight of him in my palm.
"Christ, Allyson," he breathed out, one hand shooting up to grip the headboard while the other clutched the bedsheets desperately.
I continued my torturous rhythm, watching his reactions with satisfaction. His cock pulsed against my palm, his hips tensing with each movement of my hand, every twist sending shudders through his muscled frame.
He was completely at my mercy now, his body responding to my every touch.
Moisture beaded at his tip, and I swept my thumb across it, spreading the slickness in slow, maddening circles that made his whole body jerk.
His hips bucked upward sharply.
A satisfied smile curved my lips. "Getting restless?"
"You don't know what you're doing to me," he gasped, his voice raw with need. "Keep going like this and I'll lose it before you even—"
