She doesn’t move. Not until I shift like I might reach for her.
Then she steps between my legs, denim brushing my bare thighs. Her fingers slide along my jaw, eyes locked on mine.
“No hands,” she says. “Not yet.”
She straddles me, her thighs sliding over mine, bare skin dragging slow, sticky with heat. Her denim top’s fallen down some, and I get an eyeful of soft, flushed skin and her tits are driving me out of my mind. She doesn’t sit fully—just hovers, her cunt pressing hard against the underside of my cock, dragging over it as she rolls her hips once, slow and deep.
My head drops back and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep myself from coming right here, right now.
Her breath hits my cheek, her lips ghosting just above mine. “You’ve been looking at me like you want to ruin something,” she murmurs. “And now you don’t get to touch any of it.”
My fingers twitch around the arms of the chair. She moves again, her clothed core dragging across me with just enough pressure to make my breath stutter.
“Fuck—” I hiss.
She doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t let me come up for air. Just keeps grinding against me in tight, devastating rolls, dragging her heat along the length of me with the kind of rhythm that makes my spine bow and my thighs lock up.
Every now and then, she shifts her hips just enough to let the head of my cock slide along the seam of her soaked panties, dragging through slick fabric that’s doing nothing to protect my sanity.
I bite down on a groan, hard, neck straining as I fight the urge to flip her over and take what she’s teasing.
Her tongue slides slow across my throat before she sucks deep—hard enough to leave a mark. I feel it in my spine.
“Lark—” My voice breaks. I don’t care.
She bites just below my jaw, then pulls back, eyes dark and wild. “No talking. No touching. Just sit there and take it like a good boy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I breathe, chest heaving.
She laughs—low and wrecked. Then her hand slides into my hair—tight, commanding—and yanks my head to the side, exposing more of my throat.
Her mouth is back on me in a second—hot, open, relentless. She kisses down the line of my jaw, teeth scraping, tongue dragging slow over flushed skin before she bites again. Harder this time. Like she’s making a map of every place I’m hers.
I groan, low and guttural, hips jerking up against her as her grip tightens
“You want inside me?” she asks, voice wrecked, shaky even though she’s the one holding the reins. “Then let me hear you beg, cowboy.”
“Please,” I rasp, the word tearing out of me before I can stop it. “Lark, I need—fuck—I need to be inside you.”
She leans in and shuts me up with her mouth.
It’s slow at first, cruel in how perfect she makes it. Her tongue teases the seam of my lips before she deepens it, taking her time, taking everything. She tastes like vodka and heat and something far more dangerous than either.
Then her teeth sink into my bottom lip, sharp enough to sting. I groan into her mouth, hips jerking under her, but she doesn’t give me space to breathe. Her tongue is back on me in the next second, licking over the bite like an apology she doesn’t mean. She’s still grinding against me, soaked through those panties that should’ve come off five minutes ago.
“You feel that?” she whispers against my mouth, voice hoarse, lips brushing mine like we’re still kissing. “That’s how wet I am from making you beg.”
I groan again—broken and unfiltered—and she laughs, breath hitching.
“Look at you,” she murmurs, dragging her tongue across the edge of my throat. “Sitting there like a good boy, cock dripping, ready to come, and I haven’t even let you inside me yet.”
My whole body jerks, desperate and raw, and I don’t even try to hide it.
She licks the sweat from my collarbone. “You want it that bad?” she breathes. “Want me wrapped around you while you lose your fucking mind?”
I nod, chest rising hard, my voice caught somewhere in my throat.
“Too bad,” she whispers, dragging herself harder across me, grinding right against the head of my cock until I bite down on a curse. “You don’t get to come until I say.”
