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His fingers slide between my cheeks, but they are dry, and I wonder if he is crazy enough to shove them inside of me like that.
“I didn’t touch her.”
“I know.” Two fingers press, circle, but don’t enter. “That’s why this is a reminder.”
He spits. Thankfully. Then those fingers push in, and I choke on a gasp. He crooks them and finds that spot I’m sure he mapped in the dark and kept the notes. His free hand reaches under me and wraps around my cock. “You don’t come until you say it.”
“Say what?”
He adds a third finger, and my forehead drops to the duvet.
“That you don’t want her.” His mouth brushes the back of my neck. “That you don’t want anyone in this world except the man currently fingering you open.”
“That’s an insane sentence.”
He strokes my cock again, but only for a bit, because then he takes his hand away. “Ilya.”
“I don’t want her,” I snap. “I don’t want Hana. I don’t want her mouth or her. Happy?”
“Not yet.” He fucks me on his fingers. “Who do you want?”
I last three more thrusts before the answer rips out of me at the same time as my orgasm.
“You. I want you. You possessive—nnh—bastard.”
Fucking hell. The fact that I keep coming without him even touching me properly, or with nothing more than a little attention to my ass, is driving me absolutely insane.
He kisses the place he just punished. Then he pulls his fingers out, undoes the tie at my wrist, and turns me onto my back.
He climbs up and plants one knee beside my left ear. The other follows, caging me against my own pillows until the whole top of my world is him. My trousers are still shoved to mid-thigh, and he’s fully dressed except for what he’s about to put in my mouth.
“Wait—”
“Open.”
I get one second to see it before he taps the head against my lower lip. A wet little kiss. A warning.
I turn my face away, but his fingers catch my jaw and turn it back.
“Put that mouth where it belongs.”
“You’re such a—”
He pushes in.
Not all the way. It’s just the head stretching my lips around him. “No biting unless you want more stripes on that pretty ass.”
I glare up the length of him. It would work better if I didn’t have his cock in my mouth.
“That’s it.” He rocks in a shallow inch, watching my face. “Suck.”
My tongue drags along the underside. He groans, and the sound goes straight down my spine and into the ache he left on me. I try to keep the glare, but it slips when he feeds me another inch and my throat has to decide whether to fight or take.
I take.
His thumb strokes the wet corner of my mouth. “You look good sucking cock.”
I make an offended noise around him, but he laughs under his breath and uses the opening to slide deeper. “Deeper. There. Fuck. Use your tongue—yes. Like that.”
