But I don't.
Because if this goes the way I want, the end will definitely justify the means.
I keep teasing.
Light, feather-light touches that have her squirming against me, her hips arching, trying to get more friction, more pressure.
Then, I pull my hand away completely to wrap my arms around her again, and she makes a sound of frustration, a needy little whimper that goes straight to my cock.
I can't help it.
I smile against her lips.
And she feels it.
She pulls back, her eyes flying open, a flash of annoyance in their depths.
But it’s not real annoyance.
It’s the frustration of a woman on the edge, a woman who wants, needs, and is being denied.
A woman who claims she doesn't need to submit.
Yet waits to be dominated.
She is an exquisite contradiction.
"I want to feel you," she whispers, her voice a breathy, desperate plea.
"I'm right here," I say, and she groans in frustration.
I know that's not the answer she wants to hear. She wants me to deny her, maybe even tie her up, until she begs, pleads.
But I won't.
Not tonight.
Even if it kills us both.
Except I’m having a hell of a good time.
Who knew, after all this time, I'd find another satisfying way to deny someone in bed?
She glares at me, a pout forming on her lips that’s so damn cute I want to kiss it away. And then bite it.
So I do.
I lean in and capture her bottom lip between my teeth, nipping it gently, then soothing it with my tongue.
She whimpers, her hips bucking against mine, a silent, desperate plea for more.
I kiss her again, a slow, deep, possessive kiss that leaves us both breathless.
When I pull back, her eyes are heavy-lidded, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from my kiss.
She looks debauched.
And I’ve barely touched her.
