Grey moans, gripping my hips.
“I think I’m gonna?—”
“No, you’re not,” I snap, pulling my foot back.
He falls forward onto his hands, peering up at me on all fours.
“What?” he asks, eyes bulging out of his stupid face.
Gods, I wish he’d stop looking at me.
He’s not ugly by any means. He has a great head of curls and a jaw that could cut through steel, but even with those pretty blue eyes, he’s not as pretty as I prefer. Or I should say, he’s too pretty. Too shiny. A perfectly boyish exterior slapped on top of a freshly shaven face and stuffed inside a crisp white collared shirt.
Everything about him screams, ‘I’ve never had so much as a bad hair day.’
I should’ve known that such perfection was too good to be true. But I guess this is what I get for trying something new.
“I said, ‘No, you’re not.’”
He blinks, rocking back to sit on his heels.
“But, I need?—”
I press my foot between his legs, cutting off his words at the root.
“I don’t care what you need. We’re only here for what I need. Remember?”
He nods, gaze sweeping down until he’s staring at my feet.
“Good. Now, if you want to come on a girl’s shoe, you have to ask nicely, Oliver.”
His body stiffens, and his shoulders square as his palms fist in his lap.
It seems he does have some pride about him, after all. Too bad it won’t do him any good.
In a battle between need and pride, need always wins.
“I didn’t?—”
He starts with an excuse, but ultimately chokes on it as I increase the pressure on his groin.
“Ah, ah. What did I say?”
Grey whimpers, and I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain he’s feeling, maybe both.
Honestly, I don’t really care.
“Please…” he whispers, eyes fixed on the floor.
“What was that? I can’t hear you.”
He hesitates, negotiating with himself. But I don’t have time for his existential crisis.
“Say it.”
“Please,” he murmurs, and I softly stroke my foot over the bulge in his jeans.
“Again.”
