I keep a tight hold of his cock and his wrists as I continue fucking between his thighs. Pleasure tingles at the base of my spine, but I plan on drawing this out as long as I can just to torment him.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I say between heavy pants.
“My ass would feel better,” he pouts.
It might just be his legs I’m fucking, but his skin is soft. The way he shifts from fighting to submission and back again makes this even more satisfying. Every now and then, he jerks and thrashes, rubbing his ass back on me. Through it all, he keeps his thighs clamped together, proof of how much he hates being alone. How much he doesn’t want to stay in that room.
It’s that thought that has me showing him a little mercy.
“I think you’re just a desperate fucking whore,” I growl in his ear as I move my fist up his length.
His body melts, his back molding against my front, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, Reese.”
“Yeah, definitely a slut for cock.” I continue stroking him until he’s trembling again. “Your ass is just fucking hungry to be filled. That’s all you care about, isn’t it?”
“That’s not true,” he whines. “I care about coming.”
I move my fist faster.
I let him get close.
Then I stop. I let go and grab his balls, pulling at them.
“Fuck!” He squirms once more, struggling against my hand holding both of his above his head. “You’re such a fucking asshole!”
“I told you you weren’t going to get to come.”
He gasps when I nip at the shell of his ear. “I thought you changed your mind.”
I smirk to myself and stroke him again. He groans but lets himself sink into it.
Again, I stop when he’s close.
He sobs. “This is torture. You’re literally torturing me!”
“Consider yourself lucky,” I whisper roughly in his ear. “I promise there are worse ways to torture a man.”
“Doubt it.”
Heat is coiled tight in my belly, and I’m so ready to fucking come.
Just a little longer…
I torture him again, letting him get even closer than before. I thrust my cock between his legs in time with my fist flying over his, twisting my palm around his head. His breaths become shorter and heavier, and his muscles go taut.
My hand once more wraps tightly around his base, interrupting the impending explosion.
He thrashes harder than ever, forcing me to press my body into his back to hold him in place. Somehow, he still doesn’t move his legs.
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” he screams and writhes. “I fucking hate you.”
“Good. It’s about time.”
That’s when I see the tear. I know it’s not water dripping from his hair. It falls from the corner of his eye when he blinks and goes streaking down his cheek.
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I swipe my tongue up his cheek, licking up the salty drop, groaning at the taste of his desperation.
More tears follow, and a sob wracks his body.
