Coherent thought evaporates.
Only sensation remains.
The slap of skin, the creak of the bed, his cock hitting that spot inside that makes my toes curl.
“C-Corin! There! Please—”
“Hell yes.Beg.” His hand reaches around, his fingers finding my swollen clit. “Cum when I say.”
“Can’t—!”
“You can.” His other hand reaches for something on the nightstand.
I hear a soft buzzing sound, and thenoh my godthere’s a vibrator against my clit while he’s still inside me, and I’m going to die.
I’m going to actually die from pleasure.
“I’ve dreamt... of this,” he grunts, pounding harder. “Watching you come apart. Knowing I’m the one doing it to you.”
The vibrator is small but powerful, and he’s controlling the intensity with some kind of switch.
High setting.
I scream.
Low.
I sob.
Teasing.
Tormenting.
Building me up and backing off and building again until I’m begging.
“Please. Corin, please.”
“Not yet,” he rasps.
“I hate you.”
He laughs, and increases the vibration. “No you don’t.”
He’s right.
I don’t.
I love him.
Which is why this is so devastating.
Because he knows exactly what I need, exactly when I need it, and he’s not giving it to me until I’m completely undone.
“Ask me,” he says. “Ask me properly.”
“Let me cum!” The words come out as a whimper. “Need it... please!”
His groan is feral. “Cum. Now.”
