Her predatory stare follows every revelation. The defined V leading to my groin, the power in my thighs, the primal ownership in my stance.
When her fingers creep toward her own wetness again, I catch her fucking wrist, pinning it above her head.
“You touch yourself whenIallow it.” I kiss her knuckles, tasting salt and desire. “Not a second sooner.”
Her body fucking trembles, her slickness coating her inner thighs, that beautiful red ass still on display as she arches into my hold. Desperation bleeds from every pore.
“Hands above your head,” I command. “Palms flat on the headboard.”
She obeys instantly, arching her back, putting every curve on display.
The sight is fucking exquisite.
“Don’t move,” I growl, climbing onto the bed. I kneel between her thighs, spreading them wider with my knees.
My palms skim up her inner legs, feeling the tremors in her muscles, before settling on her hips.
“This is mine,” I murmur, tracing the hollows of her pelvis. “Say it.”
Her voice is a ragged whisper. “Yours.”
I start with my mouth, kissing a slow path from her ankle to her knee, nipping and sucking lightly.
Her hips lift, seeking more, but I pin her down with one hand. “Still.”
She whimpers, forcing herself flat.
I move higher, my lips grazing herinner thigh, inhaling her scent, so fucking heady, so fucking wild. I’m so close to where she wants me, yet not touching.
I repeat it on the other side, taking my time, making her feel every brush of stubble, every warm exhale against her damp skin.
Her knuckles are white on the headboard, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.
“Please, Marco,” she begs. “Please touch me.”
I ignore her, shifting upward to tease her breasts instead. My tongue circles one nipple, then the other, drawing them taut until she cries out.
Only then do I let my hand drift down, fingers feather-light over her thick, beautiful mound, tracing her fucking folds without parting them.
She bucks, a full-body shudder.
“Hands,” I snap, and she freezes, panting. “Good girl.”
I reward her with a single finger sliding inside, just to the first knuckle.
She moans, her walls clenching frantically around me.
I withdraw almost immediately, leaving her empty.
“Not yet.” The denial is a blade, sharp and sweet.
I continue like this, tempting her to the edge with whispers and touches, then pulling back.
My teeth graze her collarbone; my palm cups her heat without pressure.
Her body is so fucking hot, trembling and slick as it is.
“Look at you,” I rasp, dragging my cock through the wetness on her thighs, coating myself in her. The sensation is fucking arousing, and her fucking gasps fuel my own need.
