Two mutinous eyes meet mine, but I just smile and give her what she wants, sliding two fingers inside her easily. Her hips lift, her cunt clenching around me. She’s so slick and hot, so ready for me. My thumb toys with her clit while I thrust into her, slow, steady, making her body beg for more even as her stubborn mind refuses.
I can feel her tightening around me, feel her hips straining toward release, and I slow my pace, drawing out her torment.
“You’ll come only after you beg me,” I tell her, “and with my permission. And you will tell me that you are mine.”
She scoffs, but the sound only fuels my desire. “No one can hear you,” I remind her. “Only me. Just say the words and I’ll make you come.” I work her gently, giving her clit the attention it needs while I pump into her, curling my fingers to hit that perfect spot inside.
“Come on, little bird. Tell me.”
She’s so close now, her body trembling with the effort to hold back. Her eyes flutter closed, and I can see her fighting it, fighting herself.
“Never.” She bites the word out between clenched teeth, and I have to smile.
My stubborn girl.
I curl my fingers in a way that makes her whole body jerk, and then back off, let her feel the empty ache inside. “You know you want to. Tell me you belong to me, and I’ll let you come.”
“No.” But her voice is shaking, her grip tightening on the settee until her knuckles turn white.
“No?” I slide my fingers deep, press against the spot that makes her moan, then withdraw.
“I can see how much you love my fingers inside you. I know how badly you want to come.”
“You can’t win this, Eva. You won’t break me.”
“No? Are you sure about that, little bird?”
She gasps, her hips lifting as she seeks my fingers, but I just circle her clit again, letting her feel the emptiness inside. “Say it, Robin. Admit you’re mine. Then I’ll fill you again, fuck you until you scream, make you come harder than you ever have before.”
Her eyes close and a flush creeps up her cheeks. “Tell me,” I repeat. She’s so close, so wet and tight, and I can’t resist teasing her, filling her up and then retreating, until she’s making soft noises of protest and need.
“Tell me.”
She makes a frustrated noise. “I hate you.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear. Now tell me.”
She shakes her head, her mouth tight, and I have to stop myself from laughing. She’s so defiant, so determined. I want to push her right to the edge, then throw her off and watch her fall.
“Fine.”
I withdraw my hand and sit back, leaving her empty and wanting. Her eyes fly open, shock mingling with frustration. “What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting.”
She stares at me, chest heaving, and I can see the conflict in her face. She wants me, needs me, and that need is warring with the part of her that refuses to surrender.
She reaches down herself, but I bat her hand away, pinning her wrist above her head. “Did I give you permission?”
Her eyes flash. “You?—”
“Do not make me ask again.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to keep fighting. Then she lets out a frustrated noise. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Make me come. Please.”
