Two fingers trail up the inside of his thigh, cruel and merciless. I feel pressure building inside me, the sweet ache of tension swelling to its boiling point.
I lower myself, giving one slow lick over his entrance. He groans and I do it again, torturing slowly this time, letting my tongue circle the tense, soft, ridges, not quite pushing in.
His hips roll back, trying to make me.
“Behave,” I warn, clawing my fingers into his skin.
His laugh turns into a moan the moment I press the tip of my tongue inside.
He gasps. I go deeper, flick once, pull out completely. Stop.
“You keep doing that, and I’m not making it out of this in one piece.”
“Then tell me how to ruin you properly,” I whisper.
He grabs the lube from the nightstand, handing it to me.
“Sapphire. I need more than that. I need to feel you now.”
Those words feels like a gift on Christmas morning.
I open the bottle, slicking my fingers before running them slowly along the seam of his ass, teasing the touch. He tenses, then melts back into me.
I take my time, making sure he’s ready before pressing the first finger in. His hole clenches tight around me, then yields. With another push I’m buried to the knuckle in heat.
He gives me a needy moan that makes my breath hitch for a second. I keep kissing the skin along his neck and shoulder, soft kisses turning into hungry bites I just can’t hold back.
A second finger slides inside, stretching him, twisting and prying him open.
His head tips back against my cheek. I bury my nose in his hair, smelling always so fucking herbal and sweet.
“Feels good?”
“Fuck, baby…”
I open him slowly, feeling the way his body stops fighting and starts asking. I twist my wrist, testing. He grinds down, chasing the pressure. He guides me, I curl just enough. He breaks with a sharp cry, the kind of sound that tells me I’ve found exactly what I was looking for.
All I can think is how much of a turn-on it is, knowing he’s giving me that power, trusting me when he’s giving himself over, completely. It makes me want to push further.
I slick my other hand, closing it around his length.
“Want me to show you a little trick, love?”
“You’re full of tricks, McKenna.”
I grin against his skin. “This one’s worth it. I promise.”
I keep my fingers slow and deep inside, pressing in at that angle that makes him lose his breath. My other hand works his cock.
“Fuck, Tom… What the hell… fuck.”
I keep it uneven on purpose. Two slow beats inside. Four fast strokes with my fist. His hips can’t decide where to chase the pressure.
He’s trapped between both, and watching him squirm like that might be my favourite thing on earth.
When he tries to say my name and can’t even manage the one clean syllable, I know he’s right on the edge.
I pull out just enough to make him swear, keeping him in a loose fist so he doesn’t tip over.
