Pucked On Ice
He was still gripping my arm like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, nails biting into my skin.
I didn’t speed up. I kept the rhythm torturously deliberate, long, firm pulls from base to tip, letting my thumb circle the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading his leaking pre-cum until the inside of his shorts felt soaked and slippery.
“Fuck…” Riven whispered, so quietly I almost missed it. His eyes were locked on mine, wide and glassy, cheeks burning red. He looked like he was fighting every urge to look away.
“That’s it,” I said softly, watching his face. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me see you.”
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