“Is that good enough?” he asks. “Can I lick your pussy now?”
I nod, speechless. I don’t even ask what he means by life or death.
He kisses my thigh. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Tell me you want me to eat your pussy. I told you what I was thinking.”
“No.”
He slaps my ass so hard it burns. “Now you have to beg.”
This man is going to unravel my final thread of sanity. For the hundredth time. “I’m not going to beg you. You either want to or you don’t.”
He slaps the other cheek. “Then I’m not going to lick you. Only in my head will you be fucking my face until your knees give out.”
“Fine!” I’m not fine. I roll my head back and look to the sky, endless deep purple and tiny stars beyond the crisscrossed branches and dangling leaves. I’ll stare at it until the desire passes.
But how? How can I do that when he works his hands up between my thighs? When he pushes my legs farther apart with the press of his fingers? When he runs them up and down that rarely-touched skin? And the tree branches reach toward us as if they wanted in on the action?
I need him. I release his hair and grip his shoulders, then focus allmy desire on zapping him with a little pain. But it’s much stronger than I was going for.
“Ah, dammit!” His shoulders jump, then my hands are pulled away from his skin. My arms are forced behind my back without him touching them. Then my wrists slam together as if cuffed. I fight to pull them apart, but I’m locked in place. I’d zap him again to see what he’d do, but so far, I can onlychooseto cause pain when I use my hands.
He raises his brows and uses his control to press harder, to tighten the invisible hold and yank my arms downward. I gasp and wiggle my fingers over my bottom. He doesn’t even need chains to restrain me. His mind is stronger than any metal that could bind me.
He drags his lips over my mound. And stops. Right above where I want them. “Go ahead. Beg me.” The concentrated heat from his breath on that one spot chills the rest of me. Frost veils the ground in white, cold on the souls of my feet. “Beg for my mouth on you.”
I shiver and look back at the sky, refusing to view the man kneeling before me. “I said no.” Because I’m stubborn? Because voicing what I want is harder than not having it? Or maybe, because I don’t know hownotto put up a fight.
“You’d better hurry up. I wasn’t joking about life or death.” He rises, kissing my hips. Then my naval. And back down again. And down.
I want to shove his shoulders downward, but my arms are still wrenched behind my back and under his control. “Youhurry!”
He lets loose a breathy chuckle and swipes a single finger up the slippery line between my lower lips. His other hand moves to the back of my thigh and holds tight. I can’t stop myself—I roll my hips forward in search of his mouth and finally look down at him.
What a fucking mistake. He’s smiling. Watching me suffer. And suffer I do. I ache for him.
Then he sucks his finger clean, his cheeks caving in. The frost melts with a sudden gush. He dips his head closer and kisses the trail of arousal sliding down my inner thigh. All his fault. I try to free my arms again to pull him into me, but I can only capture his head between my legs. He bites me.
I squeal at the pain in my thigh, and the moons flash indigo light. What is going on? I don’t care. I need him. I need his touch. His tongue. His escape. “You addictive asshole.Please.”
“Good girl. Now tell me where you want my tongue.”
Dammit dammit dammit. “Make me.”
He groans. “Just what I wanted to hear.”
My lips move on their own, my voice passing through them without me saying a thing. This manforcesme to beg him. “Please, Eli, make me come on your tongue.”
A smile spreads clear across his face as my jaw drops.
“You—” I start, but he cuts me off and puts his own words in my mouth. “I’m so wet for you. I want to watch you eat my—”
He releases his control on my voice and softly pinches all around my clit. “You say it.”
The pleasure is instant. Intense. It encompasses my entire core. I squeeze my eyes shut, resisting. The ground vibrates. His grip on the back of my thigh grows tighter. The pressure builds inside and out until I don’t know if I need to inhale or exhale next.
