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I nibble at her clit, filling myself with a sort of warmth I haven’t felt in a while. It’s the sounds she makes, the way she squirms, pressing against me, moaning with her mouth against the plaster.
“I can’t do this.” She’s hopeless, and it feeds my hunger.
This is what I wanted. This is what feels good. Kayla King at my complete mercy, unable to tell if she wants pleasure or pain, unable to decide if she needs to live or die.
I have her fate in the palm of my hand, and I could crush her in a split second.
When I take a break, her body shudders. “Nate…please.”
This is different.
This doesn’t sound like despair.
I freeze, my mouth hovering above her clit, my hands moving from her ass to her thighs, digging in the flesh, keeping them apart.
“What is this?” I ask.
“What?” She’s panting, shaking, her voice has an edge to it I don’t fucking understand and it’s driving me mad.
“What are you feeling, Kayla?” I insist sternly.
“I-I don’t know!”
I press my mouth to her wet pussy, growling against her soft, slippery skin.
“Just think.” I pull away again, and she whimpers. “Tell me what you’re feeling, and I’ll let you come.”
I had no intention of letting her come whatsoever in the next few days. Especially not before we’re officially married. But I want—scratch that. I need to know what she’s feeling. The excitement of understanding Kayla so I can hurt her further burns through my veins.
“I-I’m not sure.”
“It’s not despair.” I know, because I learned despair from her. It’s not that. She’s using please, but it’s different.
“No, it’s not. I—” I lick her clit slowly, gently, showing her what she could get if she’s a good girl.
“Name it.”
“Shit,” she hisses. “Anticipation.”
“No.”
“Yearning,” she squeals as I bite her clit gently. “I need to come. Please, I don’t know…”
I lick her again, teasing her so lightly, she tenses, muscles locking beneath my touch.
“Craving!” Her desperate scream fills me with dangerous electricity.
Craving. Yes, that’s it.
“Very good,” I mumble against her clit.
As I promised, my satisfaction comes with a reward. I hold her still, licking her over and over again at the exact same pace, draining any remnants of sanity she had left.
“Fuck,” she moans. “Fuck…fuck.”
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I bring my middle finger to her entrance. I barely push in, her pussy tightening and dragging me inside. I’m the one who has to hold back a groan when I press my mouth harder, and her walls contract around me.
“Nate,” she pants, her voice a crescendo toward oblivion. “Nate…Nate!”
