Teacher (Voyeur #6) - Fiona Cole Page 0,41

watched, his hand running along the growing length in his slacks.

Hanna jumped a little when I brushed her hair back and whispered against her ear. “I want you to get yourself off.”

She jerked her wide-eyed gaze to mine. “What?”

“I want you to do what I did to you the other night. Take control, Hanna. Find pleasure in your body. It’s yours. The more you do this, the easier it will come.”

Her gaze bounced between mine as she swallowed before nodding and focusing her attention back on the scene.

“I’m right here.”

She nodded again. When the man pulled his dick out and began stroking it, Hanna followed suit and slid her trembling hands up her thighs, tugging the material of her dress with it. She shoved aside the scrap of red lace and ran shaking fingers through her folds.

“Tease yourself, baby. Build up the anticipation.”

“I don’t know how,” she almost growled.

“That’s why I’m here. I’ll help you.” I nodded toward the glass. “See how he’s taking his time. Slow, long strokes. Teasing himself—torturing himself by holding back on the pleasure he knows is coming.”

Hanna’s hand followed my words, moving slowly down and back up.

“Dip your fingers in your pussy, get them wet, and bring them back to your clit, slowly rolling it around. Find the move that brings you the most pleasure. There’s no wrong answer.”

The woman stripped her top, leaning back against the pole, rubbing her breasts, pinching her nipples before sliding down and tugging her underwear aside to show the man her pussy.

Hanna whimpered in my arms, and I clenched my fists at my side, stopping them from joining her hand.

The man used quick, rough strokes, racing toward his orgasm, his eyes never leaving the woman pleasuring herself. Hanna’s hand moved with his, and when he groaned his release, she moaned with him, but she didn’t come.

With her lip pinched under her teeth, she continued playing with herself, letting out a grunt of frustration.

“Be patient, Hanna. You don’t want a lover to rush with you, so don’t rush with yourself. This is your pleasure. Give your body what it deserves.”

The man stood from the chair and gripped the woman’s ankles, sliding up to her hips to guide her to the edge of the stage. He ripped her panties from her and tossed them aside so he could bury his face between her thighs.

The woman clutched his head and moaned. He moved until she was perched on the edge of the stage, he was on his knees and feasting on her like he was a starving man at a buffet.

“Daniel,” Hanna whispered. “Please. Help me.”

That was it. There was no way I’d turn down her plea. My hands lifted, and I looked down her body, unsure of where to start first. Too many places begged for my touch, but her fingers were busy at work between her thighs and her breasts heaved, calling to me like a Siren. I couldn’t keep my fucking eyes off them. I was like a man possessed, wanting to dive right in and devour her. She was so ripe for the taking, but I had to do this right.

I hovered on the edges of her dress, letting my thumbs play just a fraction under the material in the valley of her curves, giving her time to tell me to stop.

When she didn’t, I pinched the material on the sides, tugging the dress further and further, holding my breath until her pert nipples popped free. I’d seen a lot of breasts—loved a lot of breasts—but nothing would ever compare to Hanna’s blush rose nipples. The hard buds pulled tight in the cool air, goosebumps prickling along her firm flesh.

I cupped the bottoms, filling my palms completely, and rubbed my thumbs along the tips.

She almost shot out of my arms at the contact, but I loosely held her in place, tugging her back to my chest. The couple beyond the glass ceased to exist as I focused my sole attention on playing with the most perfect tits I’d ever seen.

My large hands barely covered her, massaging every inch, always circling back to her nipples. When her whimpers came fast and hard, matching the woman’s, I focused all my attention on the hard tips. Hanna’s hips were wild under her fingers, and I knew she was close. Holding the tip between my finger and thumb, I pinched, testing her boundaries. She arched into my hands, and I pinched tighter, twisting and tugging a little harder with each pass. She