Good, they were open.
The phone falls beside us once again, forgotten the second it leaves my hand, landing somewhere on the bed—could be the floor. I don’t even care at this point.
“Why are you letting me touch you?”I hover above her, my arms braced beside her head. “You and I both know if you didn’t want this, I’d be on the fucking floor. You could claw, scream, and shove me back, and I’d go. Now, either kick me out of your bed or call out to me. Tell me it’s me you want, or show me just how much you want me gone. Your move, baby.”
And she moves.
God, does she fucking move.
She thrashes beneath me, like a storm unleashed, her teeth clenched, legs kicking out as she twists hard under my body.
She’s wild, furious, and so fucking beautiful. But I was made for this. I’m built for her wrath.
I catch her wrists mid-swing, my hands locking around them like iron, slamming them down onto the mattress above her head. She thrashes, teeth bared, and then I feel it. The fight in her melts away, and her body goes slack beneath mine, every muscle surrendering in a way that feels less like giving up and more like giving in.
“Baby, listen to me. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. If you want space, you’ll get it. If you want me gone, I’m gone. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants me, then whisper my name… just once, because I need you to want me back here. I need to know you’re choosing me.”
I press a kiss to her jaw, so achingly soft. Because for all my fire, she’s the fucking altar, and I’d drop to my knees a thousand times if it meant I got to worship her the way she deserves.
Her lips part just enough for me to catch the tremor, and I’m pretty sure I stop breathing altogether. My chest locks up as the silence between us grows heavier by the second, and when I hear my name slip from her lips, it’s so quiet I almost miss it.
I release her wrists slowly, my hands falling away with care, like I’m afraid one wrong move might send her retreating again. But she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t even flinch.
Instead, she reaches for me. Her fingers find mine, and without a word, she guides them back between her thighs, surrendering to me in the softest, most beautiful way.
Once she places me where she wants me, her hands fall to her sides. I feel the sheets tighten beneath us as her fists curl into the fabric, like she’s bracing for something she already knows she won’t come back from.
And she’s right. She won’t.
My fingers tease, V-ing as I slide them up and down the sides of her clit. I want to push one inside her so fucking bad and feel her grip me from the inside, but she’s not ready for that yet. So I work her instead, getting her so fucking wet it’s obscene, before trapping her clit and circling it with two fingers.
Seconds.
That’s all it takes.
One…
Two…
Three…
Her pretty clit swells and pulses under my touch like it knows me already.
She’s coming for me… because of me.
My entire palm moves over her. Up and down. Again and again. She’s soaked for me, and I don’t stop until my hand is drenched and my skin is glistening from her. I lift it, dragging my tongue from the base of my wrist to the tip of my fingers, my eyes on her the whole time.
She’s sprawled across the rumpled sheets, chest rising fast, her hair a wild red tangle that looks like hell had its way with her. She’s watching me, unsure whether she wants to come again or throw something at my face, and either one would get me hard right now.
I hope she realizes that no one else will ever make her come again. Well… aside from herself. I’m not a total monster.
If she wants to fuck herself, I’ll watch. Hell, I love watching. I’ll hand her the toy and hold her legs open. I’ll sit back and record it for her if she wants to watch it later.
And just like that, my neglected and pissed-off dick starts to wake the hell up again.
“I’ve got an early start. You can see yourself out.”
Ah. There it is. Exactly what I expected from her.
