Holy...I guess anger pumps the blood in all the right places... he's massive...
My body instantly clenches, imagining him moving inside me.
"If I fuck you now, they'll hear you in every room," he says with warning in his voice. "Would you want that?"
I feel my arousal running down my thighs in a warm path, heat licking my belly like wildfire. I nod frantically, my voice fast and pleading. "I want you. I need you to fuck me. I want everything to rattle. Fuck me now."
He fists a hand in my hair and pulls my head back slowly, forcing me to meet his hard gaze. "Good. Now, say please."
My eyes narrow—fire flashing in my eyes. "What?"
His brow cocks, daring me. "Say please, Emma, or I won't touch you."
I will kill him, I swear I will—my body is pulled like a bowstring, I'm begging him to do something beyond reckless, and he's still playing me?
But I want him, and that need for him overpowers my pride and defiance. So I suck in a sharp breath and try to sound steady, like I'm not unraveling.
"Please."
He gives me a brief, dark smirk, almost a smile.
One hand is fisting my hair, pulling my head closer toward his face, the other starts pressing against my center firmer, faster.My legs start to tremble and I can no longer contain my moans that resonate through the kitchen. I just hope the music drowns them on the other side of the door..
"Please or pretty please?" he asks, voice low while working me.
"Ben..." I manage, my jaw tight.
"Please or pretty please?" He moves my face closer to his and presses his thumb on my tingling clit.
"Pretty... ahhh... pretty please." The words scrape out of me just as I fumble my hands back, reaching for him.
He lets me open the button of his pants and sink my hand inside.
The second I feel his warm skin and the thick shape of him, growing even more by each second, my mouth waters, all my cells begging on their knees at this point.
He grunts low in his chest like his own restraint is wavering, but lets me drive my hand deeper to find the engorged head and stroke him until he coats my whole hand. The pressure of his palm between my thighs fastens even more, and his cock pulses as I work him hungrily.
"I don't want to come like this. I want you inside," I gasp.
I grip him tighter, about to pull him out and shove him inside me as my other hand's already hauling my skirt up.
He looks at me with hooded, fierce eyes, leans toward me, and then—in one swift motion, he seizes the glass from the sink and takes a long step back.
"No. No. No!" I scream, smacking the sink so hard my hand pulses. I whip around toward him. "BEN!"
"You're not getting anything today," he says, voice flat assteel. "You don't deserve it."
I glare daggers, my body pulled like a wire. "You can't keep doing this to me! Are you kidding me?!"
The faucet keeps dripping.Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Not one bit."
"Why are you doing this?!"
"I'm done letting you play me," he says and stuffs himself back in his pants.
"What?!" I scream, slamming both palms to his chest. "Ben, stop that! Stop being like this!"
