“Kellan! I can’t, I can’t, nnng, nomorenomore,” I squeal.
He tears his mouth away, but he doesn’t relent completely, continuing to finger fuck me into oblivion as he gets to his feet. He leans over me and grips the back of the seat to balance himself. His face, throat, and chest are drenched, large wet splotches darkening his heather gray hoodie from the collar down his sternum.
My hands snap to his strained forearm, his tendons and veins popping as my release continues to spill into his palm. With staccato cries, I dig my nails into his skin, overwhelmed with the pressure in my core.
“Kellan,” I sob, the syllables broken and strained.
“Give me more,” he demands through gritted teeth, his voice guttural and hoarse.
The orgasm ebbs, but the bliss is never-ending, and I feel myself climbing up the cliff again, heading toward another.
He leans down until his mouth brushes across my ear. “Tell me who owns this cunt,” he whispers darkly.
I shake my head with a whine, refusing to fall for this again, refusing to give him any more ammo to use against me.
“You want your pussy to ever feel this good again?” he challenges. “’Cause I promise you, baby, no one else is gonna fucking touch you.”
“I can do it myself,” I gasp.
He removes his hand, careful not to spill the liquid pooled in his palm. The panic is instantaneous.
“No!” I whimper, my core pulsing painfully from the loss. My hips involuntarily undulate, seeking the pleasure he denies me.
Frustrated, I growl, “Kellan.”
“Let’s see, Reverie. You think you can fuck your pussy as good as I can? Show me.”
I can’t.
The only thing that’d come close is a toy, and while those have given me plenty of great orgasms, they’ve never come close to the ones Dread has given me. I’m definitely going to grieve that later—but after I grieve over the annoyed words spilling out of my mouth. “Okay, fuck, fine! You own me.”
He chuckles, inserting his fingers back inside me. My back arches with a pleased mewl.
Iloathehow badly I want to smile in relief when he resumes stimulating my g-spot, though not as intensely as before.
I bite it back, my eyes fluttering when his lips feather down my neck to press a sensual kiss below my jaw.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Goosebumps scatter across the surface of my skin, and a shiver tumbles down my spine. Two words and a simple kiss shouldn’t be so fucking sexy, yet, combined with his ministrations, it sends my eyes to the back of my head.
It’s evil how easily he turns me on, how easily he works me up with so little effort.
“You know I’ll always take good care of this needy little pussy, yeah?” he rasps.
Fucking Christ.
Even in my heightened state, I hear the ‘always’ and it is incredibly frustrating, but only because it has the intended effect on me. I want to purr and rub myself all over every inch of him so he’ll do exactly that—alwaystake care of me.
Which is why I desperately need him to shut the hell up.
“Uh-huh,” I gasp, just as his fingers fuck me harder.
My body moves on autopilot as I reach for the waistband of his joggers and yank them down far enough to free his cock. I don’t wait for him to process what I’m doing before I have my fingers wrapped around his thick girth, twisting my wrist up and down his length. I release him briefly to run my hand over my pussy, wetting it thoroughly before returning it to his length to stroke him.
He lifts his head to let out a moan before whimpering, “Fuck.”
Those moans have haunted me almost more than his filthy words from the other night. The fucker must know the power of them, because he drops his lips back down to below my ear and lets out the sexiest raspy moan I’ve ever heard.
