"Because I'm yours," I sobbed, tears streaming down my temples into my hair. "Because I was wrong to run. Because I need you, all of you, more than I need air to breathe. Please, Ethan. Please. I'm begging you."
"Good girl." He rewarded me with a firmer touch, rolling my nipple between his fingers, tugging gently, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. My hips bucked up involuntarily, seeking friction that wasn't there. "That's what I need to hear. Keep going."
He worked my body with deliberate patience, his clever hands finding every sensitive spot. He traced the underside of my breasts, the curve of my waist, the hollow of my hipbones. His mouth followed, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my collarbone, my sternum, the valley between my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue swirlingaround the hardened peak, and I wailed at the sensation, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"More," I begged, my voice already wrecked. "Please, Ethan, I need more—" He switched to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his hand continued to tease the first, rolling and pinching until I was writhing beneath him. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building in my core, slick gathering between my thighs until I could feel it dripping onto the sheets beneath me. I was drenched, my body preparing itself for him, desperate to be filled.
But every time I got close, every time I felt the edge approaching, he pulled back, leaving me gasping and desperate.
"Ethan," I whimpered, my hips rolling restlessly against nothing. "Please?—"
"Not yet." His hand skated down my stomach, fingers dancing over my skin, tracing the crease where my thigh met my hip. So close to where I needed him, but not close enough. "You don't get to come until I say so."
"Please," I begged, my voice breaking on a sob. "Ethan, please, I need?—"
"What do you need?" His fingers traced along my inner thigh, so close to my aching center that I could feel the heat of his hand. "Tell me. Use your words."
"I need you to touch me," I sobbed, my thighs falling open in shameless invitation, slick glistening on my swollen folds. "I need to feel you inside me. Please, I'll do anything — I'll do whatever you want, just please touch me?—"
"Anything?" His finger slid through my slick folds, parting them, gliding through the wetness gathered there. I cried out, my hips bucking toward him, desperate for more. "You said that before you ran. You said you were ours. And then you left us."
"I won't leave again," I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. "I swear, Ethan. I'll never run again. Please believe me.Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll never leave you. I'll never—" He circled my clit with his thumb, and my words dissolved into a keen. The pressure was perfect, exactly what I needed, pleasure sparking through my entire body like lightning. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core…then he stopped.
"No," I wailed, my body convulsing with denied pleasure, my walls clenching around nothing. "Ethan, please — I was so close — please don't stop?—"
"Not yet," he said, his jaw tight with his own restraint, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach. "Not until I believe you. Not until I'm sure." He pushed a finger inside me, and I cried at the intrusion, my walls clenching around him desperately, greedily, trying to pull him deeper. He was gentle but relentless, working me open with slow, deliberate strokes that had me seeing stars.
"So wet," he murmured, his voice rough with barely contained need. "So tight. You're dripping for me, Ava. Soaking my hand. Is this all for me?"
"Yes," I sobbed, my hips rocking against his hand, trying to take him deeper. "All for you. Only for you. Please, Ethan — more. I need more—" He added a second finger, curling them to find that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes. The pleasure built impossibly high, my walls fluttering around his fingers, my orgasm cresting toward release…then he stopped again.
"NO!" I sobbed, thrashing beneath him, tears streaming down my face. "Please, Ethan, please — I can't — I need to come — please let me come?—"
"Beg me," he demanded, his green eyes burning into mine. "Beg me like you mean it. Show me how much you want this. Show me how much you want to stay."
"Please," I wept, my voice raw and broken. "Please, Ethan, I'm begging you. I need you so much. I need to feel you inside me. I need to come. Please. I'll do anything. I'll be good. I'll never run again. I swear on my life — I swear on everything I have — please, please, please?—"
"More." His fingers pumped into me again, his thumb finding my clit, circling with devastating precision. The pleasure crested impossibly high — and then he pulled away again, leaving me sobbing and shaking on the edge.
"Please!" I screamed, my body convulsing. "Ethan, I can't — I can't take anymore — please—" Again and again, he brought me to the precipice. Again and again, he pulled me back. I lost count of how many times — five, six, seven times he edged me until I was nothing but a desperate, sobbing mess beneath him. My whole world narrowed to his hands, his voice, the desperate need for release that he kept just out of reach.
My body was trembling uncontrollably, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. My nipples were swollen and aching from his attention, my core clenching desperately around nothing, slick running down between my thighs to soak the sheets beneath me. I was completely undone — broken apart by need and denial and I didn't care about anything except him.
"Please," I finally sobbed, my voice completely wrecked, barely recognizable as my own. "Please, Ethan. I love you. I want you. I choose you. I'll always choose you. I'm yours, forever yours. Please…I can't take any more…please, please, please—" Something cracked in his expression, the last of his control shattering.
"Yes," he breathed, positioning himself between my thighs. "That's what I needed to hear." He notched himself at my entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against my swollen, desperate folds. I could feel him there, so close to where I needed him, and I sobbed with relief.
"Look at me," he commanded, and I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense green gaze. "I want to see your face when I make you mine." He pushed inside me in one long, slow stroke, and I all but howled at the sensation, my body arching off the bed. The stretch was overwhelming, perfect, exactly what I'd been desperate for. He was thick and hard, filling me completely, reaching places deep inside me that made my whole body sing. My walls clenched around him greedily, pulling him deeper, and I heard him groan at the sensation.
"So tight," he gasped, his arms trembling where they braced on either side of my head. "God, Ava — so wet and hot and perfect — you feel incredible?—"
"Move," I begged, wrapping my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass. "Please, Ethan — I need you to move—" He pulled back slowly, letting me feel every inch of him retreating, the drag of his cock against my sensitive walls making me whimper. Then he thrust back in with one smooth, powerful stroke that punched the air from my lungs. I cried out, my nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks.
"You're mine," he growled, beginning to move with deep, powerful thrusts that rocked my entire body. Each stroke was deliberate, hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. "Say it."
"I'm yours," I sobbed, my head thrown back, my body arching to meet each thrust. "I'm yours, Ethan. Only yours. Always yours."
"You'll never run again." It wasn't a question, it was a command.
