I was afraid before, but I approach the bed with a new kind of awareness…an ancient power, raw and wholly feminine, rippling through me.

“Stop right there,” he says when I reach the edge of the bed.

He looks me up and down, his eyes burning.

“Show me…show me where you want me,” he commands. “Rub it and beg.”

It takes me a moment to realize…he wants me to touch myself. Something he forbade me to do at the apartment. Something I’ve never done in front of another person, much less a man.

My new awareness statics and blips with self-consciousness.

“Get out of there, angel,” he intones, tapping his head with one of the fingers he had inside of me earlier. Is it a command or a reminder? Either way, the static calms.

I reach down with a quieter head and find myself slick with wetness. Slick with all the things I want. And touching that evidence of my desire makes me want it even more.

My eyes start to flutter close with images of all the things he did to me downstairs looping through my head. But he says, “Un-uh. Look at me, angel. I want your eyes on me the whole time.”

He puts on a condom as he tells me, “You’re allowed to get close, but don’t you come. You still got lessons to learn.”

I give him my eyes but wonder if it’s even possible to get close to coming in this situation. Usually, I’m reclining in a bed when I masturbate. Could I really become that aroused while standing up and touching myself as he watches?

Waylon’s stare, though—it’s not like any other. The way he watches me while fisting his erection up and down like he’s making all sorts of plans.

I get close to the point of no return faster than I think I will.

“Stop,” he commands, knowing somehow without me telling him where I am. “Come around the bed and sit between my legs with your back to me. And keep your right hand up in the air.”

I do as he says. Rather awkwardly. Climbing into a bed with one hand raised isn’t easy or graceful.

But he just waits patiently for me to do as he commanded.

When I’m in the position like he wants, he says, “Time to take the stick again. angel…”

He grabs my raised wrist with one hand and sits me down on his cock with the other at my hip. He doesn’t even have to line up. He’s so hard. I stretch and slip down, finding my new seat easily. A whimper tears from my throat at the exquisite feel.

Then I find out why he asked me to keep my arm raised and grabbed my wrist.