“Good.” He drags his thumb along my bottom lip and adds, “I’m not asking you to stop.”
He kisses me, and I fist his shirt and drag him closer. He lifts me by the thighs and pins me to the tile wall, and I lock mylegs around his waist. Two weeks of distance collapse in four seconds.
His hand slides into my shorts. I’m already wet. He drags his fingers through me once before pushing two inside, curling them forward while his thumb settles against my clit. He watches my face as I tighten around him.
“Tell me what you want,” he orders.
“You know what I want.”
“You have to say it.” His thumb moves in a single slow circle just along the outside of that little bundle of nerves and stops. “Tell me.”
I grind against his hand and whimper. “Just fuck me, Lev. Right fucking now.”
“Ask properly, Polina.”
He’s completely composed, like my wanting him doesn’t touch him at all.
And it pisses me off.
I know what he’s doing.
He won’t give me what I need until I say it.
“Please.” I force the word out. “I want your cock inside me.”
He holds my gaze one more beat, then pulls his fingers free. The absence hits immediately. I reach for his waistband before I can stop myself. He lets me drag him closer. When my hand wraps around his cock, I stroke once, and he exhales slowly through his nose.
Finally. A reaction.
He pushes my hand aside and lines himself up. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, but he doesn’t move.
“Say it again, Polina. I want to hear you beg.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. My nails dig into his shoulder.
“I want you inside me,” I grit out. “Now. Please.”
He drives into me in one deep stroke, and I bury my face in his neck to keep from crying out. He fills me completely and stays there, his mouth close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
“Look at me,” he growls.
I lift my head. He starts to move — deep, steady strokes — watching my face with ruthless focus. His hands clamp on my hips as he drives into me hard enough to push me up the tile with every thrust.
I bite my lip to hold in the sound.
“Don’t,” he mutters. “I want everyone in this building to hear you.”
His thumb finds my clit again while he keeps moving, and thinking stops being possible. His eyes never leave my face while I fall apart around him.
“You’re mine,” he says against my ear.
“You don’t get to say that.”
He thrusts harder.
“Stop me.”
The pressure builds low in my belly as he keeps the same relentless pace. I feel the control I’ve been clinging to for two weeks start to fracture.
