“This pussy,” he whispers as he shifts back, and despite having heard it all before, my body still grows slick with a sheen of sweat, trembling around him.
My mouth turns dry with huffs of breath as he slowly presses inside of me before pulling out and doing it all over again. The pace is maddening, somehow just what I need yet not being enough at the same time.
If he’s going by the very same playbook, I know he won’t let himself come like this, and it makes me anxious. Bent over the bed, taking the pleasure he’s giving me is easy. Turning over and facing him with our mouths close enough to feel each other’s breath, however, is going to be difficult. I’ll want to kiss him although I wouldn’t. Rules are in place for a reason.
I reach for my clit, wanting to come desperately if only because I know how close to the edge it brings him. Maybe if I can force his orgasm from him in this position, I won’t have to face the way he’ll curl his hand around my neck to bring my breasts to his lips.
“My job,” he snaps, swatting my hand away from my body.
Then his fingers are there, teasing and toying the most delicate part of my body, and like before, that familiar tingle curls around like a snake in my body, getting ready to strike.
I feel like a fortune teller when he pulls nearly all the way out, his hand disappearing from my skin.
“No,” I whisper when his hand lands on my shoulder the way it did that night. Before he can urge me to my back, I say, “Make me come like this.”
“I’m not done with you,” he pants, and then I’m on my back, legs locked around his hips at his insistence.
I can’t even look at the man as he curls that damned hand around my neck, sliding inside of me the same second his mouth wraps around the tip of my breast. I want to cry. I want to pound my hands against his fist for ruining what should be a glorious moment.
Instead, I close my eyes and turn my head.
“Look at me,” he demands.
My head shakes, my throat sore and dry as I swallow.
“Sylvie.” There’s a level of agony in his tone that I refuse to fixate on.
He moves me, shoving my body further up the mattress with the power of his hips, and I’m incapable of controlling the moan that leaves my mouth with him finding the very end of me.
“What’s wrong?”
I blink up at him, my head continuing to shake.
“Am I hurting you?” His hips roll, the grind of the base of his cock one of the most magnificent things I’ve ever felt in my life.
I don’t even know how to answer the question. This isn’t supposed to be an emotional act, so I can’t really tell him about the ache in my chest. Doing so would be breaking the rules, despite this being the second time we’ve been like this, which is also breaking the rules of only one time he set forth the first night we were together.
“Your cock feels good,” I manage because it’s the truth.
It’s the heart shit that’s causing problems for me right now.
“Did he hurt you?”
My brows crease. “What?”
Spade pulls back, my legs falling open as he sits up on his knees. I’m completely open to his perusal, but his eyes stay locked on mine. That talented thumb of his swirls on my clit, having the power to turn me nearly brainless.
“Did he leave this pussy greedy?”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about Will. The man believes I fucked him or at least got close enough to show up here horny and desperate for him to satisfy some urge that Will didn’t manage.
“Yes,” I hiss, wanting to hurt him, wanting him to be mad at me, but at the same time knowing he doesn’t care where my body has been so long as he reaches climax, too.
Things would be easier if I could just use him the way he seems capable of using me.
Instead of him pinning my arms over my head and biting my neck like I know his schedule of events dictates, he lifts me up, falling to his back without somehow dislodging his cock.
“You think I’m just going to give it to you then? You’ll fucking work for it.”