Page 78 of Breathe Like Hell

“Wasn’t it?” I managed to ask.

“No.”

I gasped when Micah bit the curve between my neck and shoulder, sinking his teeth just deep enough to make me yelp. His tongue smoothed over the spot right after, hot and slick, soothing the ache of his sharp canines claiming my flesh.

“I told him to do it,” Micah continued, moving to the other side of my throat. “I specifically asked for that video. Asked him to lick your pussy on camera for me to watch.”

He brushed his lips against my collarbone, making his way down my sternum, over my stomach, until he was hovering over the apex of my thighs. Knowing that Micah had asked Mason to take a video of himself devouring me was making me even wetter.

“If you were a better girl, I’d love to eat this needy cunt for the rest of the night. The same way he did, but you’d like it even more because I make you come harder than he does,” he said, lowering his face until he was close to the apex of my thighs but not touching. He inhaled deeply, gripping my thighs hard when I tried to move away from him, holding them apart how he liked, keeping my pussy fully exposed. “But you’re not a better girl. So I can’t do that yet.”

“I can be better,” I whined. My clit was pulsing, wetness dripping from me.

“No you can’t.” He dragged his nose along my inner thigh, getting closer to my pussy. “I know you can’t. That’s why we have to do things this way. That’s why you have to wait.”

“Micah.”

“You have to be patient, have to wait until I’m ready to take you back, exactly as you are now.”

“You said you lied, too,” I complained, my hips rolling against nothing.

“Because I did lie. I still do lie.”

“You’re a bad person, then. Just like Mason.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he murmured, lifting his head to brush his mouth over mine. “You are a bad person, too. All three of us are horrible people who can’t stop doing terrible things to hurt each other.”

Goosebumps broke out all across my skin.

“But this is because of you,” he said, rubbing his prominent erection over his boxers. “This is your fault. A problem you caused, and you can’t even fix it. How disappointing is that?”

“I’d fix it if you let me,” I promised.

“And what if fixing it meant me taking your ass?” he questioned, pushing his thumb against the swollen head of his cock, thinly stretching the cotton covering it. “Would you gratefully offer that to me, without hesitation?”

“Yes.” I was nodding before I could even think about his request. Micah could fuck my ass if he wanted. He could fuck any part of me. I would genuinely let him do anything he wanted to me. Especially right now.

“Good. I like that,” he said.

I was melting into the mattress. I didn’t know if I liked the praise or degradation more.

He stroked his cock through his boxers, his eyes dragging all over my naked body stretched out and tied up before him. My thighs were still spread all the way apart. The mere force of his stare on my bare pussy was enough to make me throb and ache and pulse.

“You fucking kill me.” His voice was low, rough. “You know that, Dakota? You know how bad I want to bury my dick in your tight pussy and fuck you until you cry? You know how much I hate the fact that I can’t?”

I wanted to tell him he could. He could do it. He could do anything.

Tell me anything, instruct me to do anything, hurt me or pleasure me however he wanted.

But I was starting to grasp this part of him just a little bit better. The barest corner of his psyche was being revealed to me over these weeks of no sex, and I wouldn’t give that up for something as trivial as a begged-for orgasm.

Micah didn’t like being dominant, being in control.

He had to be.

And I assumed me fucking Mason had triggered that need even stronger.

My patience had grown since making that connection, since realizing the actual reason for my sexual punishment. Even if he didn’t like talking about himself, I was understanding him more.