And licks.
Once.
A cruel, calculated swipe that barely brushes my clit—but it’s enough to make my whole body jolt. My fists slam into the sheets. My legs twitch.
But he pulls back.
Smirking.
“Did I say you could enjoy that?”
I whimper.
He leans in, tongue circling everything but the place I need it. Everywhere but the heat. Everywhere but the spark that’s burning me from the inside out.
And I can’t take it.
I’m going insane.
“Please,” I whisper, and the sound is so broken, I don’t recognise myself.
“Louder.”
“Please.”
“For what?”
My nails dig into the mattress. My back arches. My mouth opens—but the words catch.
I don’t want to say it.
But I need him.
“Say it, Tinkerbell.”
My thighs tremble. My walls are clenching around nothing.
“Please let me cum.”
He stills.
And grins.
Then presses the flattest, coldest part of his hook against my throat as his mouth finally—finally—descends.
And just when my world begins to blur, just when my body is poised on the sharpest edge of release?—
He stops.
Lifts his mouth.
Pushes himself up so he’s straddling me, fully clothed, his cock hard and twitching against the line of my stomach.
His eyes glitter.
And he slaps my thigh. Once. Sharp.
“You don’t get to cum yet, little fairy. Not until you tell me what else you’d beg me for.”
