He chuckles again, deep and rich. “And what do you want me to do with that sweet little cunt? Is she wet? Is she aching?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Oh, fuck. Stroke my clit.”
“Like this?” He slides his hand lower, over my thatch of pubes to where I need him the most.
The words flow better now. Maybe the darkness makes it easier to be shameless. “Just like that. Please, I need it so bad.”
He tilts his hips, his thick cock sliding between my cheeks. I lean against him and moan. Then he ghosts his fingers over my outer lips, giving only the barest hint of sensation.
“How badly?”
“Sobad it hurts. I’ve been thinking about it since last night, since you?—”
“Since I what?”
“Since you sucked my toes,” I finish, my insides burning with desire.
When he glides a finger over my swollen clit, my knees buckle, but a strong arm around my waist keeps me upright.
“And what did you think about?” he asks.
His finger circles my entrance, collecting the wetness, but he doesn’t push inside. The teasing touch makes me squirm against his larger body, desperate for more.
“I thought about your tongue. I couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth. I wanted it everywhere. On me. In me.”
“Greedy little thing.” His finger slips inside me just to the first knuckle, then withdraws. “But you don’t get what you want just because you ask for it.”
I whimper at the loss of contact, my hips bucking forward on instinct. But the moment I shift, he pulls his hand away.
“What did I say about moving?” he growls.
My mind goes blank. I can’t remember anything beyond this aching need. But I’ve been with enough dominant men to know what he wants. “I’m sorry,” I say with a gasp. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t stop.”
“I won this body. Every pretty curve. Every delectable inch. You don’t get to move. You take what I give you and don’t come until I say. Is that understood?”
“Yes… Yes, I understand.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mr. Rochester.”
“Better. Now, hold still while I pet your pretty pussy. I’m going to make you purr.”
“Yes, sir!”
A growl reverberates against his chest. It’s feral, animalistic, and deep. I shiver against him, my legs trembling with anticipation. He slides one finger into my entrance while his thumb finds my clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Fuck. This is everything. I never knew the man in the three-piece suit I met my first morning could be so skilled. I bite down on my bottom lip, panting through his ministrations as he teases me to the brink of madness. But every time I build toward a climax, he changes the rhythm. A moan slips from my lips. This sexy bastard keeps backing off just enough to leave me on edge.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please let me come.”
“Not yet.” A long, thick finger curls inside my pussy, finding that spot that makes my vision blur. “Beg for my touch all you want, but you don’t get that orgasm until you admit you belong to me.”
If I wasn’t so desperate to climax, I’d keep him waiting. Instead, I play along. “I do.”
“Tell me.”
My hips jerk again, trying to chase the friction, but he stills his fingers, depriving me of pleasure. A moan reverberates in my throat. This man is driving me insane with the teasing. “You. I belong to you.”
