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I fist her hair, pulling her head back to break the hungry kisses that have turned into full on pants. I know from experience with her she is going to come quickly, explode before I’ve even had my fill of her.
“You will not come without my permission,” I say sternly.
She whimpers defiantly in my grasp, her tongue licking her bottom lip as she begs me for more kisses without a word.
My eyes lock in like missiles on her lips.
“Don’t act like you control me, you don’t.” She slips her fingers slowly over her breasts, rubbing each of them, taking her time while I still grasp her hair, giving her a stern look. But she continues her defiant movements, slipping her hand between her legs and rubbing herself viciously.
She moans at the touch of her fingers against her clit.
“Are you going to fuck me? Or am I going to come without you?” she asks, her eyelashes fluttering innocently at me.
There is nothing innocent about what she’s doing. She’s getting me riled up, on purpose.
I growl as I grab her hand, removing it from between her legs.
“This pussy is mine,” I say, as I take her fingers in my mouth one by one and lick all her sweet juices from her fingers.
“Mine,” I say again.
She grins. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I hiss.
I grab both of her wrists in one hand as the other lingers on her hip. I walk her back to the bed, denying her the kisses she is begging for. My eyes devour her instead.
“Beg for me, baby,” I say, as I push her back onto the bed.
Her legs spread immediately for me, and her hands start making their way back between her legs. I grab them, stopping her from touching herself again.
I give her a warning look. “Mine.”
She cocks her head, seductively. “Then touch me already.”
I growl. “I’m in control.”
She shakes her head. “That has never been the truth. We both fight for control every chance we get. And you love it.”
She’s right. I do.
I grab her by the waist and swing her ass up across my lap as I sit on the edge of the bed—my hand, rubbing her bare ass slowly, taunting her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice breathy.
“Punishing you for disobeying me.”
“I never—”
I slap her ass.
She yelps, but I know from the heat of her voice she likes it as much as she hates is. As with everything else in our relationship.
“You disobeyed me. I told you to remove your shirt, and instead, you took your pants. I told you I would punish you, and I am. Do you want more?” I ask.
It takes her a moment to decide. “Yes.”
I slap her other cheek, watching as the redness spreads. “Do you still want to disobey me?”
