And it’s still true. Even with his unreasonable anger toward me…his obvious dislike for me, he will stop if I say so.
“No.” I whimper the word, because why the hell am I saying no?
His expression cracks into a wicked grin.
“Then you need to ask me. Ask me to let you come.” He runs his fingers through my wet pussy lips until he reaches my entrance. “Ask me, Sienna.”
Two fingers, no three, plunge inside me, filling me, stretching me as he bends them, contorts them in ways that make my body ache to belong to him.
I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to forget he’s there. Trying to ignore the sensations dancing over my skin. But it’s impossible. It’s his touch that’s giving me life.
“Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart. Let me see your pretty eyes.” He nips my earlobe. “You’re so beautiful like this. Desperately trying to ignore me but needing to give over.”
When I open my eyes, he’s there, staring at me like he can see straight through me.
In a weird way, I think he can. I think he can see straight into my very soul.
And it aches.
It hurts to be seen so easily, being so on display and being able to do nothing to stop it.
“You’re beautiful when you obey, Sienna. So give me what I want, what you want. Give us what we both need.” His thumb brushes across my clit, and I whimper with need.
“I can’t.” I shake my head.
“You can. All you have to do is ask.” He kisses me again, softly this time with all the patience of the world. “Just ask me to let you come. Ask me to give you what is rightfully yours as my wife.”
I arch my body into his touch.
He leans down, wrapping his mouth around my nipple through my shirt. With his teeth, he grabs hold and pulls.
The pain, the sweet unadulterated pain of it, shoots straight through my body, right to my clit, and I cry out. It’s a plea. For mercy or for an orgasm…
I think they mean the same thing at this point.
“Please!” I slap my hands against the door behind me. “Please, make me come. Let me come, sir. Please!” My body coils. My insides shake.
A thin layer of perspiration appears on my neck and tears build in my eyes. I’m going to explode. One way or another.
He lines up our gazes. Shifts his hand so he can get a better angle, rubbing my clit harder, faster as he pumps his fingersinside of me. Another bend of his knuckle and I have to curl my toes. I’m losing control.
“I can’t hold on anymore.”
“Yes you can. You wait for permission, or you get nothing.” His voice his hard, but his eyes, they’re filled with as much hunger and urgency as I feel inside.
“Oh, god. Please, sir. Please!” My head falls forward, and I’m heaving into his shoulder.
“One more time, sweetheart, ask me again.”
I bite down on my lip. Where is my spine? Where is that grit I came in the room with? Where’d it all go?
“Please let me come. Please,” I whisper the last bit.
He smiles, it’s wide and arrogant, and sexier than anything I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Yes, Sienna. You have my permission. You may come.” He emphasizes the word permission, but I can’t feel any sort of way about that. Not now. Not while my body unleashes the fury of an orgasm held back for too long.
He covers my mouth with his, taking my scream of pleasure into his body. His fingers curl, twist, stroke me, guiding me through the storm of my release.
