She whimpered aloud at the sight, both because of the intimacy of the motion and because he had stopped touching her.
“Say you’ll agree,” he said, as he began touching her once more.
“Agree?” In the haze of her pleasure, she had no idea what he meant.
“To stay at the Hall.”
“It’s…not a good idea,” she managed to say, breathless because he continued teasing her with long, gentle strokes.
Slowly, he slid his finger fully inside of her and she felt herself swell around him, her muscles seemingly moving of their own accord, following the pleasure of his touch.
“Say you will.” He thrust his finger into her and she felt her mind go blank. For a single moment, she was only exquisite sensation.
Still, she couldn’t give in. It wasn’t a good idea, but, more than anything, she was afraid of what would happen if they were that close for so long. She was so vulnerable to him. She wanted him too much. “I can’t.”
With another skilled movement, he found that spot, deep inside of her, that throbbed and brushed it gently.
“I need to protect you,” he said. “Let me protect you.”
Without waiting for her answer, he began to rub her, moving his fingers back out to the sensitive nub at the apex of her thighs.
She whined, pressing against him, wriggling for more. He gave it to her, alternating between entering her and rubbing her clit, until she was on the precipice.
With practiced restraint, however, he didn’t give her more. He refused to let her go over that edge.
“Agree,” he murmured. “Say yes to me.”
“I can’t,” she repeated. But she knew she was close to giving in, her mind syrupy with desire.
“Say yes and I’ll let you come.” As he said these words, he brought her a few strokes closer. She tried to move against him out of desperation.
“Mischievous girl.” He grinned up at her and held her still with his other hand. “Trying to cheat.”
“Please.”
“Agree,” he said, moving his fingers deep inside of her one more time, but keeping his thumb on her clit. She could feel the fullness of him inside of her as he touched her center of pleasure. She thought she might cry from frustration. He began moving his thumb in a torturously slow motion. “Say yes,” he repeated.
She knew that, with one movement, he could release all of the tension coiled inside of her. She was panting for breath and sanity. He had power over her. She hated how much. How weak he made her. She didn’t want to give in—not to his ostensible request nor the demand he placed on her body. And yet she doubted how much longer she could refuse him. Not when she wanted to give in nearly as much as she wanted to resist.
He gave another tantalizing tug of his fingers and she felt tears spring into her eyes. He did it once more and the sensation was pure joy. It broke her. She couldn’t resist anymore. She felt actual tears wet her cheeks and she would have been ashamed if she weren’t so desperate.
“Yes,” she gasped, finally, “I will.”
He smiled up at her. “Good.”
“Please,” she begged.
“Don’t worry. I can make it better.”
He drew her into a long kiss and accelerated his pace, stroking and kissing her at once. Again, the tandem sensation threatened to undo her. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice straining, his fingers bringing her to the edge. “God, you’re so perfect.”
Those words, from so long ago, forced her over the cliff, and she cried out, burying her head into the crook of his neck. She felt herself spasm, hard and delicious, over his fingers, the resistance that they offered deepening her pleasure, her mind completely gone to anything other than him.
She didn’t know how long they sat like that. Eventually, however, he curled his arms around her and gently placed her on the seat next to him. She buried her face into his chest. She found she was too tired to say anything.
Before long, she caught herself drifting off to sleep. She couldn’t fight the tide that drew her out into unconsciousness.
