Pippa glances back over her shoulder just as I suck my fingers into my mouth. She tastes sweet, dark, and complex, just like her cherry perfume. Her eyes go wide, watching as I suck every drop of her off my fingertips.
“Tell me who made you this wet.”
I tease my fingers along her opening. I know what she wants—my fingers shoved inside her and my thumb on her clit, relieving the ache that’s building. Unfortunately for her, she won’t get it until I hear her say it.
I need to hear her say it.
“Maybe I’m pretending you’re someone else,” Pippa suggests, her gaze shifting away.
“Don’t bother lying.” I trace my finger along the crease between her thigh and her pussy, and she shudders. “You’re not that good at bluffing.”
“I was good enough to kick your ass at the poker t-table.” Her voice breaks on the last word as I repeat the same movement with my fingers.
“Try again, Pips. Tell me who made you this wet.”
I press just the tip of my finger inside her, not enough to satisfy her, but enough that I can feel her inner walls trembling. When I pull out again, Pippa whines.
“It’s a simple question.” I tease her again, brushing lightly against her lower lips without giving her the pressure she wants. “Tell me who made you this wet.”
I know how desperate Pippa is when she doesn’t correct me. If she were still in her right mind, she’d tell me that was a demand, not a question. Now, she’s worked up enough that all she can say is, “Please.”
“Please, what? Be specific, or I can’t help you.”
She whimpers, chasing my touch with a thrust of her hips. “Please touch me.”
“As much as I love hearing you beg, you still haven’t answered my question. Who made you this wet?”
“You, Ryan,” she spits, my name sounding like poison from her mouth. “You did.”
“Now, was that so hard?” Even with the attitude, she gets a reward for following orders. I press my finger against her clit and move it up and down. The touch is feather-light, enough to relieve some of her ache, but not nearly what she needs. She cries, and I see tears gathering in her eyes.
“I need more,” Pippa moans. “I thought you said you know what I need.”
“Of course I do.” I press harder, just for a second, giving her a taste of it. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you.”
“Please. Please, Ryan.”
“Please, what?”
She swallows, and I know that all her pride is gone. She’s pure want now, and ready to give me anything I goddamn want. The victory tastes so sweet, it beats every fucking poker tournament I’ve won in the past year.
“Please make me come,” she whispers.
“Look at me when you beg,” I demand, reaching to jerk her chin down until her hazel eyes lock on mine. “If you want me to ruin you, I need to see how badly you want it.”
I drag my fingers slowly up the inside of her thigh, deliberately skirting around where she’s soaked for me. The frustrated little noise she makes shoots straight to my cock.
Finally, mercifully, I stroke her clit with intent andfuck,her face breaks so beautifully.
“That’s it,” I praise, voice rough. “Now be a good girl and let me take care of you.”
Her slickness drips down onto my fingers, her thighs tightening around my hand. While I play with her swollen clit, I slide my middle finger inside her. She’s so wet and ready, I don’t meet any resistance.
“Ryan!” Pippa shrieks when I hook in a second digit, writhing against me. I don’t even have to move. She shifts her hips, fucking herself against my hand. I watch her pussy take me. The black lace underwear pushed to the side makes the sight even hotter. Makes me want to hear her scream my name again.
“You look so pretty like this, Pips. So desperate and pathetic, you’re fucking my fingers.”
Little gasps and moans fall from her mouth. She’s too far gone to even argue with me. I could probably spank her, bite her, or even wrap my hand around her neck hard enough to cut off her breath, and she’d let me do it. She needs to come that bad.
