Page 114 of His Reckoning

I know she’s close … so now it’s time to prove my point. I pull my fingers out and rest both hands on the couch cushion, leaning in as I watch her mouth close and her eyes home in on me.

“What … did …” She breathes rapidly. “Why did you stop?”

“Because, Kayla”—my voice drops to a deep growl— “you don’t get to finish unless you write for me.”

Her eyes search mine with confusion. “I’m sorry … what?”

“You heard me.” I lean further into the cushion. “You don’t write … and admit what’s happening here … you don’t finish.”

My eyes look down at her soaked pussy, and I can’t help but lick my lips with hunger.

Then I meet her stare. “You do, and I’ll reward you with my tongue and my fingers. I’ll suck on that clit until you scream my name again.”

Her eyes snap open wider, shock flashing across her face.

For a second, she just stares at me like she can’t believe I actually stopped. Her lips part, breath coming fast, chest rising and falling as she tries to catch it.

Anger sparks in her gaze almost immediately.

But it’s the other thing underneath it that catches my attention—need. Frustration.

The kind that makes her fingers tighten in the couch cushion beside her.

She looks furious, stunned, and painfully aware of exactly what I just took away.

Her brows draw together as she glares down at me, but the tremble in her breathing betrays her.

For a moment, I just watch her. Every reaction, small shift in her face. The anger is there, but it’s tangled with something else now. Something that makes the corners of my mouth lift slightly.

Kayla looks like someone realizing she may actually lose this fight.

Her glare drops to the laptop on her stomach for half a second, then back to me. She’s trying to decide whether she’s more furious about what I just said or about the fact that she’s actually considering it.

I lean back slightly onto my heals, giving her just enough space to think. Not that I’m worried about the outcome.

The way her eyes keep flicking between me and the laptop tells me everything I need to know.

She wants to argue, but more than anything … she wants me to keep going.

“Write, Kayla.”

Her fingers hover above the keyboard, but she doesn’t move.

I raise an eyebrow. “You said you don’t need me. Prove it.”

For a moment, I think she might actually hold the line, sit there all night just to prove me wrong.

Then one finger finally lowers. A single key clicks under the weight of it. The faint sound cuts through the silence between us.

A second letter appears on the screen.

A third … and just like that, she’s writing.

She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t acknowledge what just happened.

Her attention locks on the screen like it’s the most important thing in the world.

But the words keep coming now, her fingers moving faster, the rhythm building as the sentence takes shape.