I slap her breast—sharp, with a loud smack. She screams, a shrill, wordless cry, more out of shock than pain. "Jakob!"
"How about that? You like that?"
"I…I don't…"
I smack her other tit the same way, and she dips at the knees. I caress them, then, tenderly, gently, until the tension in her body eases…and then I smack her breasts again, right then left, hard. Her knees almost give out, and she whimpers, biting her lip.
"Jakob!"
"Do you like that, Brys?"
"No!"
"Liar." I do it again, right then left. Caress, smack. Caress, smack. And each time, she gasps louder, sharper, more shrill, more breathless. "You do like it. Don't you?" I nip her earlobe. "You don't want to like it, but you do."
"Yes. I like it."
"Just like you secretly like letting that man down there watch."
"Yes, Jakob. I do. It's hot."
"You know you'll never see him again. It turns you on knowing he's watching this. Knowing it's not for him. It's for us. Yet there he is, watching." I slide my hand down her belly and drive my middle finger inside her pussy. “He's watching me finger your tight…hot…wet…little…cunt." I emphasize the ‘c’and ’t’ sounds, just to shock her. She gasps at the word, at the intensity of my pronunciation.
“Yes!” she gasps. "I like it."
"You want him to watch. You want him to see your naked body and wish it were him up here. Don't you?"
“Yes, Jakob." It sounds like her words are being dragged out of her by a team of horses. "I want him to watch you make me come. I want him to go home and fantasize about us. About me. Knowing he'll never have me, not like you do."
I slick my finger in and out of her pussy. "Hear that?" I add a second finger, my ring finger, and my thrusting fingers make a loud, wet squelching sound. “Hear how wet you are for me?"
"I hear it."
"What are you going to do when I make you come, Brys?" I demand.
"Scream as loud as I can."
"Scream what?"
"Your name."
I drive my fingers inside her, gather her dripping essence, and smear it over her clit, making her jump, buck, and quiver. "Scream for me, Brys."
She whimpers instead. "Jakob—oh…god."
I drive my fingers inside her, curl them, and scrape the pads against her inner walls, and she gasps, mouth dropping open and shuddering; a soft, breathless cry escapes her throat when I drag her juices over her clit again, and this time, I keep touching. Circling. swiping. Flicking. Bring her to shuddering and bucking, and then plunge my fingers inside her and fuck her with them until she's shuddering all over again. Then her clit again. Back and forth, never letting her find a rhythm until she's grinding and gyrating and snarling like a wildcat, desperate and feral.
"Jakob!" she cries, "Please! Fuck, please, just make me come."
“Not yet. I don't believe you want it."
She lets out a soft sob. "I need it so fucking bad, Jakob. Please. How can I convince you I need it?"
I grin at the way she begs. "Fuck yourself on my fingers."
Her arms sling up around my neck, and she tangles her fingers together around the back of my neck and hangs on to me as she sinks onto my fingers. I bring my other hand down and press a delicate touch to her clit while she rides my fingers. Her movements are slow and hesitant at first, but as she finds the rhythm and balance, she gains confidence and speed. Soon, she's grinding on my fingers with everything she's got, whimpering and gasping. Within seconds, I feel her shudder, trembling all over with a building climax.
"Jakob!" She pants. "Oh—oh god. Oh god. Yes. Please, please, don't stop."
