He stepped between my thighs and hovered over me, caging me inwith his arms. “You scared, Alyssa?” he teased, his hands gripping my waist hard. “Last chance. Who runs this?”
I grinned up at him, refusing to let him see me sweat. “Call me bone-crusher ’cause I ain’t never scared.”
He let out a short, surprised laugh. “Oh, you’re a comedian now, huh?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and trying to rub my clit against him. He didn’t let me distract him, dropped to his knees, his shoulders pushing my legs wide open. Before I could think straight, his mouth was on me, lapping up my wetness, devouring me.
He dined on me like he was starving, knowing exactly where to focus and how much pressure to use. The pleasure built fast again. I reached down and gripped his head, pulling him in, grinding against his face. “Yes, Julian, right there. Don’t stop.”
“Who runs this?” he murmured against me.
“I-I dooooo,” I moaned, the word dissolving into a cry as his tongue flattened against me. He licked me from top to bottom, humming against me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine, and just as I felt my climax start to crest, the moment my toes began to curl… he pulled away.
“Ugh!” I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily. “Julian,please!”
He looked down at me. “Who runs this, Lyss? Who?”
I glared at him defiantly, refusing to answer.
He smirked, then captured my mouth in a searing kiss, letting me taste myself. He shifted his hips, lining up with my entrance, and pushed inside in one smooth thrust. I groaned. He felt incredible hitting every already-lit nerve ending. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, trying to speed him up. But he kept his pace maddeningly slow and torturous.
“Faster,” I begged, digging my nails into his shoulders.
He ignored me, kept grinding me into the mattress slow, and somewhere under the blood in my ears I caught the song playing, Tank’sSlow, because of course it would be that song. I’d have laughed at how poetic it was, but I didn’t have a laugh in me. He was winning, and I could feel how little fight I had left, as the song just sat there agreeing with him.
The pressure built again, slowly, and I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on the friction. I bit back my moans, trying to hide how close I was, knowing he’d stop again if he knew.
“You’re not slick,” he whispered in my ear, sensing the tension in my body. “You can’t hide that from me. Impossible.”
He thrust harder, once, twice, driving me right to the edge, and then… nothing. He stilled, buried but not moving, then pulled out.
I whimpered, frustrated beyond belief. My body was trembling, on the brink again, and he was just holding me there.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked again.
“M-Me,” I gasped, weakly. “I’m in charge.”
He laughed softly. “Stubborn as hell.”
Suddenly, he flipped me. I landed flat on my stomach, the breath knocked out of me. Before I could scramble up, he grabbed my hips and lifted them up, forcing me to arch my back. My ass was in the air, my face pressed into the mattress.
He got up on one knee behind me and entered me again. The angle was intense. He smacked my ass, the sharp sound of it echoing in the room, followed immediately by the sting, then the soothing of his palm rubbing the spot.
“Shiiii!” I cried out.
He rode me hard, pulling my hips back to meet his thrusts, using my body like a yo-yo. I braced myself on my elbows, trying to keep my balance as the bed shook with the force of it.
“Who runs this, Lyss?” he choked out, his rhythm never faltering.
I reached for the only ground I had left. “We both do!” I gasped. “We both… both of us!”
He laughed again. “Counsel wants to settle?”
“Counsel wants to come, Julian!”
He pulled out completely and I collapsed on the bed, a sob of frustration tearing from my throat. I was so close. I was aching and I felt empty without him inside me.
“I knew you were stubborn. But notthisstubborn,” he said, his voice full of affection and amusement.
