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And fuck, do I want round two.

But do I get to lay here and enjoy my post orgasmic bliss? Hell no.

Henry pulls me to my feet, his hazel eyes dark—burning with that quiet, controlled fire that always makes my knees want to buckle. That look alone could make me submit, and he knows it. But the brat in me? She refuses to go down that easy.

Then he kisses me—softly. A contradiction. A warning. A promise.

Before I can catch my breath, he pushes me to my knees, slow and commanding, like it’s always been his right.

He holds the flashlight out in front of me, slick and dirty. The corner of his mouth twitches as he says, “Now lick it fucking clean.”

Part of me wants to snap at him. Bite back. Push until one of us breaks. But the other part—the part that aches for his approval, that wants to show him I can play just as filthy—takes over.

I run my tongue up the side of the flashlight, never breaking eye contact. Slow. Deliberate. His big frame is mostly swallowed by the dark, but the headlights catch just enough to light up that sharp jaw and those wicked hazel eyes watching me like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.

He thinks he’s in control, and for now I let him believe he is.

Then just as I wrap my lips around the end of the flashlight he throws it behind him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty mouth.” His thumb pulls my bottom lip down and I try to bite the fucker. “I won’t be gentle and you’ll take all of me because if I remember correctly, you can.”

“Well, I don’t. I’ve sucked so much dick since then they all blur together.”

He smirks at me and pulls his zipper down, takes his thick cock out and my mouth waters. Dicks weren’t supposed to be pretty but Henry Wilder has the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Long, thick, a slight curve to the left. It was made for me.

Before he can say a word I bring my cuffed hand up and wrap around his velvety length, I then watch as he flexes his hands at his sides, his eyes never leaving me. I pump his length a few times with my hand before sticking my tongue out and slapping his cock on it.

“No fucking biting,” he hisses, voice all grit and warning.

I look up at him, heart pounding and lips parted—and I wink. Because I can’t help myself, and because I know exactly what that does to him.

Then I wrap my mouth around his cock, slow and warm and full of intent.

He groans—deep, guttural—and his hand immediately fists in my hair. I feel his thighs tense beneath me, his control fraying as I take him deeper, inch by inch, like I’ve got all the time in the world.

I want him to feel it. All of it.

The slick heat of my mouth. The tease of my tongue. The drag of my breath as I fight to take more.

I rest my hands on his thighs, digging my nails in just enough to leave a mark. I know he wants that—wants to feel me hold on while he feeds me every inch, while I surrender without a single sound but the wet slide of my lips and the hum of satisfaction in my throat.

I start slow—deliberate. Bobbing my head, inch by inch, dragging my tongue along the underside of his cock, letting him feel every slow stroke as I take more of him with each pass. I want to drive him insane. I want to make him lose that tight grip he’s got on control.

But he’s not letting me have it.

His fingers tighten in my hair, and before I can react, he shoves my head down hard. I feel the thick weight of him hit the back of my throat, and I gag, my body jolting at the sudden intrusion.

He yanks me back just enough to breathe, but not enough to pull away. His voice is rough and low, laced with command.

“Relax that God damn throat and take me.”

My eyes water, my jaw aches—but I don’t stop. I steady myself, one hand braced against his thigh, nails biting into skin, the other curled tight into a fist. And I look up at him through the tears, through the heat, and nod.

Not because I have to.

Because I want to show him what the fuck I can take.

He starts again, brutal and relentless, setting the pace and holding nothing back. I force myself to relax, willing my throat open, and when I do—he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush to my face, his balls hitting my chin with a low, satisfying slap.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice wrecked and breathless. “Good fucking girl.”