Dez stared down at me for a long moment, taking in every inch of my exposed body. The intensity of his gaze made me feel more naked than I actually was.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his hands resting on my inner thighs, holding me open. "And so fucking wet already."
I was. I could feel it, could feel how slick I'd gotten just from being fed, teased, and commanded.
“Your age has fuck to do with anything.” His thumbs traced lazy circles on my inner thighs, getting closer to where I needed him but never quite touching. "Here's how this is going to work. I'm going to touch you. Taste you. Make you desperate. And you're going to stay exactly like this. Your arms above your head, legs spread, until I give you permission to move. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you don't come until I explicitly tell you to." His thumbs moved higher, so close I could feel the heat of them. "If you'regetting close, you tell me. If you need to come, you beg me. But you do not come without permission. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"What happens if you break that rule?"
My breath caught. "I... I don't know, sir."
"Then I stop. Completely. And you don't get to come at all today." His eyes met mine, and there was no humor in them. Only promise. "So I suggest you follow instructions very carefully. Because I am going to fuck you, and I’d be a shame if I was the only one to come."
"I will follow them, sir."
"We'll see."
Then his mouth was on me again. Not where I expected. Not between my legs where I was aching for him, but on my hipbone. His tongue traced the edge of my panty line, following the path where the lace had been. Then he moved to the other hip, giving it the same attention. I forced myself to stay still, to keep my arms above my head even though every instinct screamed to reach down and pull him where I wanted him.
"Does this feel like I’m bothered by your age," he murmured against my skin, and the praise sent a fresh wave of heat through me. "Look at you, being so obedient."
“No…” I breathed out.
His mouth moved lower, kissing down my inner thigh with torturous slowness. When he reached my knee, he switched to the other leg, working his way back up. By the time he was close to my center again, I was trembling.
"Please," I whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me, sir."
"I am touching you." His breath ghosted across my wet flesh, so close but not close enough.
"Please touch my—" I couldn't say it.
"Your what, Angelina?" His tongue darted out, licking a stripe up my inner thigh that stopped just short of where I needed it. "Use your words."
"My pussy, sir. Please touch my pussy."
"Like this?" One finger traced through my folds, barely grazing my clit.
I gasped, my hips trying to chase the contact, but his other hand clamped down on my hip, holding me in place.
"I said stay still." The command was sharp.
"Sorry, sir."
"Don't be sorry. Be better." The single finger continued its exploration, gathering wetness, spreading it around but never giving me enough pressure. "I love that you’re soaked. Did you know that?"
"No, sir."
"Did feeding you get you this wet? Or was it being tied up? Being helpless? That I don’t give a fuck about your age? That I only care how good you are for me."
