“No?” He slows his movements again, and I groan in frustration.
“Braxton,” I sneer his name like a threat.
“Ask nicely.” His eyes glimmer with desire.
“Fuck. You.”
He brings his lips to my ear. “Fight it all you want, but the more you resist, the more I’m going to make you beg.”
“I. Fucking. Hate. You.” Each word is separated by one of his demanding thrusts. I’m achingly close, but he’s holding true to his word, keeping me on the precipice of my release.
“So you’ve said.” He grinds his hips into me, pressing against my swollen clit, and my nails dig into the back of his hands that are still pinning them in place over my head as I climb higher and higher.
My body tenses beneath him as it prepares to shatter, but his movements slow once more, unwinding the tension inside me. I try to pull my wrists free from his grasp, wishing to beat my frustrations out on him, but his grip remains strong. Tears of frustration brim my eyes as I release a low curse.
“Beg.” His tone is commanding, but he hasn’t broken me yet. Leaning forward, I latch my lips onto his neck, sucking and biting, and his grip loosens around one of my wrists in surprise.
I quickly slide my hand between us and begin rubbing circles around my swollen clit. My fingers move faster and faster, but before I can tip myself over the edge, he grabs my wrist again and pins it back over my head. Locking both of my wrists in one of his hands, he holds them in place above my head, and I can’t help the pathetic whimper that leaves me at having another orgasm interrupted.
“Just one word, Azalea.”
My nostrils flare as I drop my eyes to his. “Please,” I seethe through gritted teeth.
A beautifully cruel smile lights up his features before he slips his hand between us, where my hand had been, and continues my ministrations flawlessly.
He begins moving inside of me again, and the combination of sensations has me ready to shatter almost instantly. My gut coils tightly, and I’m convinced that if he were to stop again, I might actually die.
As my pleasure climbs higher inside of me, I can’t help but continue begging him not to stop. Any ounce of indignation or embarrassment completely leaves my body as pure desire takes control of me.
“Please, Braxton,” I gasp, ready to detonate. I can tell my begging does something to him as his movements become choppier, more frenzied. I cry out his name as my entire body seizes and writhes from my orgasm. I can feel a wetness coat my thighs, but I’m unable to focus on it as he continues to hammer inside of me dragging my orgasm out.
“That’s it, love.” His words are labored. “Make a fucking mess of me.”
“Braxton.” I writhe against him as he draws out my orgasm longer than I thought ever possible.
Only a few more thrusts later, I feel his release fill me. I’m barely finished coming down from my high before I feel Braxton spin us around, lowering me back down on the table he had previously seated me on.
Before I can question what he’s doing, he thrusts his fingers back inside me, curling them to hit that spot that turns me into a puddle in his hands. I’m clinging to him for dear life as a new wave of sensations builds inside my body.
“Braxton, I—I can’t.” There’s no way I can have another orgasm. My body is already sore and spent, but my words don’t deter him in the slightest.
“Yes you can, Azalea. Give me one more.”
Unable to hold myself up as my muscles become limp, I lie back on the table, moaning through the sensations that have a familiar warmth building in my core. I can hear how I’m drenching his fingers, and the erotic sound causes a blush to bloom across my cheeks and chest.
His fingers plow into me with nothing but pure determination, and when he unmistakably adds a third one, I absolutely detonate. Writhing through my orgasm, I can hear myself crying out his name, but I can’t feel or make sense of anything besides the powerful feeling consuming my entire body.
As he gently strokes me down from my high, he pulls me up into a sitting position before slipping his fingers out of my completely drenched center.
“Open.”
I’m too dazed not to do what he says, and my lips drop open, allowing him to slip his fingers into my mouth where I taste the mix of our releases.
I’m struck by how erotic it is watching his eyes flare with a newfound hunger as he feasts upon the sight of me licking his fingers clean. I’m overcome by the desire to torment him the way he’s tormented me, so I hollow my cheeks and suck, swirling my tongue around his digits. He groans before pulling his fingers from my hands with a rough pop.
I feel more of his release coat my thighs as he helps me to stand on wobbly legs. His hands are gentle as they steady me, and I quickly slap them away. I don’t need him to take care of me or make me feel better for what we just did.
“Azalea—”
