He doesn’t answer. Just keeps licking, sucking, edging me closer and closer until my thighs are shaking and I’m panting and?—
He stops. Pulls back. Leaves me gasping, aching,empty.
Bastard.
“Not yet,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t get to come until we say.”
“Sting—”
“Beg for it.”
“Please—”
“Not good enough.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Please, I need?—”
“We know what you need,” Armen cuts in. He moves in front of me now, taking Sting’s place. His hands are cooler, more controlled. Two fingers slide inside me without warning, curling, finding that spot that makes me see stars.
I moan, head falling back. Relief.
Not quite.
His other hand comes to my clit, circling slow, methodical. He’s not teasing. He’scalculating. Watching my face, reading my body, figuring out exactly how close he can push me before?—
He stops. Pulls his fingers out. Leaves me clenching around nothing.
“No,” I sob. “Please?—”
“You want to come so bad, don’t you?” Armen asks, voice low and dangerous.
“Yes—”
“Then beg.”
“I am?—”
“Louder.”
“Please!” My voice cracks. “Please let me come?—”
Rogue laughs softly from somewhere behind me. “Good girl.”
Armen steps back, and Rogue takes his place. His hands are rougher, less careful. He spreads me wider, crudely pulling my folds apart, exposing my clit completely. Then his mouth is on me, tongue flicking fast, relentless.
I try to reach down, hands flying toward my clit, desperate for more pressure, more friction, anything?—
Strong hands grab my wrists, slamming them down onto the couch cushions on either side of my hips.
Sting’s voice is a growl in my ear. “Touch yourself again and we stop.”
“I can’t—I need?—”
“You don’t get what you need,” Armen says, still holding one of my wrists down. “You get what we give.”
Rogue keeps licking, sucking, his tongue driving me higher and higher until I’m sobbing, thighs shaking, so close I can taste it?—
He pulls back.
