“Yeah, you’re ready,” I say arrogantly. “You can step out of those shorts now.”
With a flick of her ankle, she kicks the shorts and panties angrily across the room and I pull her hips forward with the same ferocity, then lift and rest her legs on my shoulders.
I blow lightly on her cunt.
Kissing. Blowing. Priming her for what’s coming next.
Things start to quickly progress from there as she unintentionally squirms her hips.
“Who do you belong to?” I demand.
She bangs a closed fist on the desk.
“Whose pussy is this?”
She moans reluctantly.
“You’re going to have to ask for it if you want it,” I tell her through a low growl, trying to keep what’s left of my manhood because actually, I’m calling her bluff.
If she doesn’t beg me to fuck her soon, I might explode all over her stomach like a horny teenager. My dick is so hard that if I bang it against the side of this desk, it might break the fuck off. I’m not sure how much longer I can play this game of chicken with her. This is the first time that Elizabeth might literally have me by the balls.
“No.”
Okay, well, at least she’s responding with actual words. That means her resolve is breaking. I’m close. I just have to try a little harder.
I take one long lick of her pussy with my flattened tongue and just when I’m about to lift my head to end the connection; she slides her hands onto the back of my shorn head and pushes me back down.
I smile to myself.
Almost there.
“You’re going to have to say the fucking words,” I speak between her folds.
“Roman.”
The way she says my name makes my dick angry. It wants relief. It wants her. Things make so much more sense when I’m inside of her, and there was a time she felt the same way. When the hell is she going to put us both out of our misery?
“Yes, Duchess?”
“Fuck!”
Why is she fighting this so hard?
“I’m so mad at you.”
“I know you are, baby, but I told you I’d buy you another computer.”
“That’s not it and you know it.”
I exhale an exaggerated breath.
“I’m waiting, Elizabeth.”
Please, dammit.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
