I smile, wicked and slow. “Thought so too until you gave me permission to beg.”
I kiss him harder this time. Not sweet. Not soft. A kiss that says mine now. And he lets me. His hands slide to my thighs, gripping tight, but he doesn’t take over. Doesn’t flip me back. He lets me ride the edge of control, lets me test it, own it.
I sit up, dragging my fingers down the buttons of his shirt, slow and taunting. “Let’s get this off.”
“You like what you see?” he asks, voice husky, a thread of challenge in it.
I pop the last button and lean forward again, breath hot against his ear.
“Like it?” I murmur. “I’m about to leave marks on it.”
His breath punches out of him in a laugh—dark and desperate. “Goddamn, Charlie.”
My nails rake down his chest, slow and claiming, and I roll my hips again just enough to feel him throb beneath me.
This time, he moans.
And I smile.
“Hands up,” I say, reaching for the pink lace bra still tangled on the bed.
He raises his arms without hesitation, eyes locked on mine.
“Don’t stop,” he warns.
I knot the lace around his wrists tight enough to make him groan. “Oh, I won’t.”
Then I press him back, fully pinned, and lean down again, my voice a promise on his lips.
“Your turn to beg.”
He lies beneath me, arms bound in pink lace, muscles tight with tension, anticipation simmering in every line of his body. His breath is already uneven, chest rising and falling like he’s trying not to lose it before I even begin.
Good.
I trail my fingers lightly down his arms, over his biceps, across the hard plane of his chest. Just a whisper of contact. Just enough to make him twitch.
“Charlie,” he rasps, voice tight with restraint.
“Mmm,” I hum, straddling his hips again, not moving.Just sitting in that delicious tension. “You wanted me in control, remember?”
His jaw clenches. “Didn’t think you’d take it this far.”
I lean forward, lips brushing his ear. “Oh, honey. I’m just getting started.”
I kiss a slow, lazy trail down his neck, letting my breath ghost over the spot that drives him crazy, my hands exploring every inch of skin like I’m memorizing it. He shudders when I drag my tongue over the line between his abs, groaning as I pause just above where he’s straining, thick and hard beneath me.
“You look so good like this,” I murmur, nails raking gently down his sides. “Tied up. Quiet. Desperate.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes shut tight. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Not yet.”
I shift, grinding down just enough to tease. A soft, maddening drag of lace against sensitive skin. His hips buck, but I don’t give him what he wants. Not yet. I stay right at the edge, moving slow, torturous, just to watch him fall apart.
He’s groaning now, breath ragged, muscles trembling.
“Charlie,” he growls. “I swear to God…”
