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“Lie down, Carver. Stop your grumbling and let me eat that delectable pussy.” He pushes me backward so that my compliance is a given. I don’t even care as long as he gets on with it. And he does.
Tongue and fingers. Mouth and hands.
Taste and slurp. Circle and smack.
Moans and whimpers. Stars and spots.
A spark to a jolt.
And …
Desertion. Nothing.
On the damn brink, and he ceases.
I holler nonsensical squawks, slumping in an irate heap—on the verge of tears over an orgasm. Or lack thereof. Not my most dignified moment.
“Okay, that’s my girl. You’re doing so good.”
His praise is a balm I wasn’t expecting, yanking me from my disgruntled haze with a swelling sense of fulfillment. He rips open a condom wrapper, sheathing himself.
Where the hell did he even get that? Doesn’t matter. It’s on, so I will soon be satiated.
Torture concluded.
Before I know it, his rock-hard dick—so fucking long and thick—is swiping up and down. Clit to entrance. Images of sucking him off flash before me. God, he was so beautiful out there that my chest hurt. Just as he is here, towering over me in all his glory. His eight-pack abs and V succeeding in their due diligence to direct my eyes to the star player.
“I’m going to stay right here,” he says, voice husky and starved, “rubbing over you. All you have to do is beg me, and I’ll thrust inside, pumping you full until you come so hard on my cock that you black out. But it doesn’t happen before then.”
That’s a checkmate move if I’ve ever seen one.
“Motherfucker,” I snarl, and he grins like the damn Joker. Demented.
He glides himself through my sopping mess in a dreadfully slow traipse. “There are rules, Ace. Eyes never leave mine. Hands under your head.” He leers until I obey with a huff, my jaw jutting out. “Good girl, but you need to temper that sass, or I’m taking you over my goddamn knee before you ever come.”
Fuck me. A traitorous whimper escapes me.
His eyebrows dart up. “You like the sound of that, baby? My kinky girl.”
His.
He increases the friction, and I’m helpless to it, writhing and moaning. Gyrating my hips to no avail. It’s not enough. But I won’t cave.
“Just touching you like this is driving me crazy. Maybe I’ll be the one to crack. You’re so fucking sexy, Celeste.” His Adam’s apple bobs, his suffering a plea of his own. “The things I want to do to you.”
“Like what?” I murmur, so desperate that I’m choking back spit.
“Ice. Wax. Maybe some light bondage.” He teases my opening with a cruel circling.“A spreader bar. My palm print on your luscious ass. Bite marks on your magnificent tits.” His breathing picks up, right along with my ratcheting heart rate. Exquisite misery. “But what excites me most is the picture I started to paint last night. I’d make you come all over the city, public places, in your prim-and-proper attire while you unraveled, wild and feral, in my arms. Our secret.”
I have no words, only unintelligible murmurs of agreement as I lose myself inside his hungry eyes.
“Whatever we did,” he continues, licking his lips through his goading sweeps, “I’d always start with a taste of your sweet cunt because I’ve never feasted on anything so mouthwatering.”
I rotate my hips in another fruitless attempt to secure what I need. “That all sounds …” My voice is unrecognizable, hoarse and rapacious. Every cell in my body wants him, to feel him inhabit every facet of my being. To be claimed by him in all the ways he’s suggesting. And more. “It sounds perfect.”
“Yeah,” he rasps. “It would be.” A pearl of sweat rolls down his chest, mingling with the tiny remnants of beaded pool water, all of them glimmering over the fallen angel veiling his heart as he continues to fist his dick and punish us both. But his next words are far more rattling. “Too bad we only have tonight.”
Fuck. He plays so dirty. That’s a wound knocking the wind out of me. My gaze flits to the ceiling. It’s so much harder to shut out the pain when the pleasure is dangling out of reach.
