“Holy—”
I don’t need to look up from the impressive girth of his cock that’s proudly bobbing in front of him to know he’s got a fucking smirk on his face.
No wonder he lets the guys’ ribbing go over his head.
“You were right,” he states, his voice giving nothing away. Thankfully, though, he’s lost his armour, and that weapon he’s currently rocking is telling me everything I need to know right now.
He needs this as much as I do.
He’s been fucking dreaming about this as much as I have. I’d put money on it… if I had any.
His words confuse me enough that I’m able to drag my eyes away from what is arguably the best part about this prick, and I find his face once more.
His usually well-trimmed stubble is a little longer than I’m used to seeing, and his hair is slicked back from standing under the torrent of water as he fingered me.
My pussy clenches around nothing, my body begging to feel him again.
“Was I?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in frustration. I don’t want to have a fucking heart to heart right now.
“Yeah. If I’d have fucked you that night, you definitely would have known about it the next morning.”
Usually, I’d have some cutting remark about his overinflated ego compensating for the size of his cock.
Evidently, that is not fucking true.
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or just desperate.
Okay, fine. I’m just desperate.
“Big words for a guy who’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do with me.” I tilt my head to the side and stare at him impassively.
A lopsided, almost cute smile plays on his lips. “Is that what you think? That I don’t know what I’m doing?”
I shrug, because the evidence speaks for itself.
We’re both standing here naked, both clearly desperate for what could come next, yet he’s the one who hit pause.
I hold his eyes for a beat before dropping down his body to his cock once more, and my mouth waters with my need to know how he tastes.
Bitter and salty, probably.
Unable to stop myself, my knees bend and I prepare to hit the tiled floor beneath me to force him into action. Only, right as I start to descend, his hot, unforgiving fingers wrap around my throat, dragging me back up and pinning me to the wall.
“You’re not in charge here, Hellcat.”
“No? Because it looks like you’re dropping the ball, Cirillo.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the move. “Give me what I need, or I’ll do it myself. You can even watch if you like.”
His eyes flash with desire, but he quickly locks it down.
“Your wrists are bound. I’d like to see you try.”
“I can be creative. I don’t need a man to—” His fingers tighten while his other hand cups my pussy, one digit slipping inside. “Fuck.”
“You were saying?”
His eyes hold mine, daring me to argue with him.
I can’t. There’s no way in hell that I could get myself off half as well as I suspect he can, and fuck, he knows it too.