I pressed him harder against the wall, eliminating all space between us. I ground my cock against his through our clothes, and we both groaned.
I broke away just enough to speak against his swollen lips. "All those nights. You touched me every day for a year. Hands on my body. And you gave me nothing."
His glazed eyes sharpened with pain. "I couldn't. You were healing. You needed—"
"I needed you." The admission ripped out of me. "Not your competence. You."
"I know." His voice broke. "But I couldn't be the thing that complicated your recovery—"
"My distraction?" I laughed. "You've been my only distraction for thirty-two years."
I shoved my thigh between his legs and ground up against his erection. He moaned, and his head fell back, throat exposed, pulse racing under the bruises my fingers had already left.
"And yet you betrayed me." Venom dripped from every word. "Took everything. My children. Their mother. Twenty years."
His face crumpled. "I know. I'm sorry. I'd do anything—"
"Anything?" I mocked. "Would you crawl on your belly? Lick my shoes? Press your forehead to the ground and beg?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Anything. Everything."
I ground against him harder and let him feel exactly how much I wanted this. His broken moan made my cock leak.
"Is this what you want? To be punished? Marked? Reminded of who you belong to?"
"Please." The word sounded like a prayer. "Algerone, please—"
I reached between us and palmed his erection through his pants. He bucked into my hand, gasping, his whole body straining toward me. I squeezed hard enough to make him whimper.
"Eighteen months," I said against his ear. "You touched me every day for eighteen months and never once let me have this." I stroked him roughly through the fabric. "You kept yourself just out of reach while I lay there wanting you. Needing you. Hating you for making me need you."
"I'm sorry." The words came out broken. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize." I bit his earlobe sharply. "Show me."
I released his cock and stepped back. The loss of contact made him whimper and reach for me.
"On your knees."
He dropped instantly, looking up at me with those desperate dark eyes while I unbuckled my belt. The sound of leather sliding through loops made him shudder.
"You want this?" I freed my cock and stroked myself slowly while he watched. "You've been waiting thirty-two years for this?"
"Yes." His voice was wrecked and reverent. "Please. Please let me—"
"Open your mouth."
He obeyed, and I pushed past his lips, groaning at the wet heat that enveloped me. His tongue pressed against the underside of my cock as I slid deeper. His eyes stayed locked on mine, watering slightly as I hit the back of his throat.
The sight of him on his knees with his mouth stretched around me, finally giving me what he'd denied for three decades, was almost too much. I tangled my fingers in his hair and held him there.
"Is this what you wanted?" I pulled back slowly, then thrust forward again. "To finally be used? To stop pretending you don't belong to me?"
He moaned around my cock, and the vibration made my hips jerk. His hands came up to grip my thighs, steadying himself as I fucked his mouth. I wasn't gentle or careful.
The pressure built fast, too fast. I wanted this to last. I wanted to punish him properly. But his mouth was perfect and hot and finally mine after all this time.
I pulled out abruptly. He gasped, his lips swollen and slick, a string of saliva connecting us.
