I lock down completely.
THIRTY-TWO
KEIRA
Imake a sound closer to a sob than anything else, already knowing he's going to punish me for chasing it. But my hips move anyway.
"Not yet." His tongue traces my bottom lip. "Ask me for it."
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me come."
He pushes back inside me, deeper this time, fingers curling against that spot that makes my spine arch off the desk. The pressure builds so fast my vision swims. I'm right there again. Right at the edge. Muscles clenching around him like I can keep him there by sheer force of will.
Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm so close…
He stops, smiling cruelly at me.
"God, you're beautiful like this." His forehead drops against mine, the mask cool against my flushed skin. "Holding on because I told you to. You're my good little slut."
I whimper through the ache, body throbbing with the denial, until he starts again—building me with those same devastating fingers. Taking me right to the cliff and holding me there. Tears burn my eyes, every nerve drawn so tight I might snap.
"You're doing so well." His voice is velvet and gravel. "Such a good girl for me."
I reach up and pull off the mask, needing to see him. Needing all of him.
He's magnificent. Sweat-slicked. Hair falling across his forehead, pupils blown so wide there's barely any color left. I grab the back of his neck and crush my mouth to his.
I gnaw and suck and tug while he builds me up, only to drag me back down.
Build and pull back. Each peak sharper than the last.
My hands find his shoulders, clutching at fabric because I need something to anchor me. His free hand moves to the back of my neck, steadying me, thumb stroking the base of my skull while his fingers destroy me from the inside out.
"One more," he murmurs against my lips.
"I can't?—"
"You can." He sounds so certain. "You can because I'm asking you to."
His fingers withdraw and I nearly scream at the loss—but then I feel his cock pressing against my entrance, thick and hard.
"Is this what you need?"
"Yes." The word tears out of me. "Please."
He pushes inside me in one slow, guttural stroke.
My head falls back. A moan rips from my throat, sounding nothing like myself. He fills me completely, stretching me until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
"Fuck." His groan vibrates against my neck. "You were made for me. This pussy was made for me."
He starts to move. Deep, deliberate thrusts that hit something vital inside me. His hand stays wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me exactly where he wants me while his hips drive forward again and again.
The pressure builds impossibly fast. I'm already so sensitive, so wrecked from his fingers, that every stroke sends sparks shooting through my entire body.
