There is nothing punishing about this.
I grab his other hand and slide his fingers over my clit.
“Rub,” I order.
He growls again but complies.
He starts rubbing, but his fingers only manage a couple of rubs before he slips off my clit.
Damn, Langston!
There is a loud sound.
Langston stills.
“I’m so close,” I exhale.
He ignores me.
Then, suddenly, his fingers are gone.
And then, so is he.
No!
He doesn’t get to get me all worked up and then not finish me.
I jump off the ground and run to the door.
It’s open.
I run out and chase Langston down the hallway. I don’t care if an army is attacking us, he better come finish what he started right now.
I don’t make it far until I run into a brick wall of a chest.
I stop abruptly.
His fingers hold me back at the waist.
A light flickers on.
Langston’s angry glare leaves me timid and weak at the knees.
His eyes roam up and down my body, like he’s taking inventory of it.
A soft breeze blows through the window. It’s then I realize I’m naked. My robe must have fallen off as I was chasing after him.
His eyes heat on the scar on my stomach.
I move my hands to cover it, but he gently and firmly removes my hand so he can inspect my scar.
“Are you ready to sleep in my bed?” he asks sternly.
“No.”
“Then what are you doing out of the closet?”
“I—I, uh, just wanted to know why you stopped. What you were chasing?”