“Tell me if you need me to move,” he said, using his thumbs to open me.

And then he ate. Devoured. He covered my pussy with his mouth, using his lips, teeth, and tongue to work me.

My eyes moved to the screen again. Even though he wasn’t touching himself, he was so hard. His cock bounced.

Precum dripped.

For me.

All for me.

“Ward,” I breathed. Begged. Ordered.

He dropped a hand to fist himself. Even on camera, I could see how hard he squeezed himself. He twisted as he moved up his length, using his thumb to gather precum before sliding back down.

His mouth.

His hand.

His cock.

My movie.

It wasn’t hot.

It was a supernova.

My thighs began to tremble. My pulse raced, and my mind went hazy.

Ward read my body. He knew I was close. His pace and pressure stayed steady on me, sucking my clit between his lips as his tongue flicked and circled.

But his speed on himself increased, his hold tightening.

I had to work hard to keep my eyes open. Work to keep them focused.

I didn’t want to miss anything.

My orgasm tore through me. Eviscerated me. I felt like I was splitting into tiny shards. It was almost painful, all that pleasure. Too much. Not enough.

It’d never be enough.

Ward eased back, gently lapping as he released his hold on himself.

“No,” I cried out frantically. “You’re not done.”

“Gonna fuck you,” he practically growled, standing.

“That’s not the fantasy.”

He froze for a long moment. Two. Three. His voice was low and gruff when he rumbled, “This is your fantasy?”

“I told you that.”

“You said you wanted to see it. That’s a whole fuckuva lot different than a fantasy.”

“It’s a new one,” I admitted. “Ever since that night in the backyard.”

I expected his cocky smirk, but I didn’t get it. I didn’t get his teasing words.

Instead, he dropped to his knees again and speared his tongue into me. The pad of his thumb rubbed my clit in an erratic, desperate pattern while his other hand worked his cock at the same frenzied pace.

I came hard, arching my back off the couch and grinding against his face. When I was done, I sank back. Overwhelmed. Oversensitive. Unable to even think about coming again yet unable to tear my attention from the phone screen.

Ward abruptly stood, and my breath seized in my lungs.

He wasn’t stopping, though.

Holding the most intense, erotic eye contact, Ward spit into his hand. It was my scent. My taste. My cum that he used when he wrapped his hand around himself.

I didn’t need the camera. I had the real thing.

But I watched it anyway.

“Spread your legs wider and aim the camera at your pussy,” Ward gritted out. “At what belongs to me.”

I clenched at that, suddenly feeling too empty.