“Good girl,” I say as I continue to twist her nipple piercing, never touching her breasts, just moving the metal through her nipple, the pebbled nubs becoming harder and more desperate with every second.
She’s so responsive.
Even when she hates me . . .
“How wet are you?” I ask.
“Very,” she answers.
“Let me taste,” I say, my mouth parched for her pussy.
From her pause, I don’t think she’s going to do it, but then to my satisfaction, she lifts her hand, and I lean forward to suck her fingers into my mouth. I lap at them with my tongue, then slowly draw them past my lips until they pop out. “Fucking delicious,” I say.
Her back shifts against my chest as she hums in the back of her throat, enjoying this just as much as I am. And when she goes to move her hand back between her legs, I stop her.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Touching myself,” she answers as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.
“I never said you could touch yourself again. Rest your hands on my thighs.” When she doesn’t listen right away, I pinch her nipple, hard.
“Fuck,” she hisses as her hands move to my thighs.
“That’s my good girl,” I whisper right before I cup her breasts. “Spread your legs wider.” She does, and I lock her ankles with my foot so she can’t move them. Firmly in place, I pinch her nipples with my forefinger and thumb, rolling the hard nubs to pull a long, delicious moan from her lips.
Besides my cock pounding into her, there’s nothing she loves more than nipple play.
She loves the torture, the pleasure, the bolts of lust sent straight to her pussy with every pinch, every tweak.
That’s how she’ll come tonight. She will find her release from my hands.
“Take a deep breath for me.”
Her chest rises as she sucks in sharply, then lets out her air slowly.
“Again,” I say. “Slower.”
This time, her body relaxes more as she exhales. I lightly pass my thumbs over her nipples as she does this.
“Again.”
This time, her chest rises longer as she sucks in air, and when she lets go, I press down on her nipples. A moan falls past her lips along with her breath.
“Again.”
This time, as she inhales, I circle her areolas with the tips of my fingers, and when she exhales, I press down on her nipples.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“Again.”
“Keller, I’m already throbbing.”
“I said, again.”
Her teeth fall over her bottom lip, and she takes a shaky deep breath. I circle her nipple, and when she exhales, I flick her nipples rapidly.
“God,” she cries, her legs shifting, but I hold them still. “I need to touch myself.”
