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“What did I say, Rachel?”
His eyes glittered with lust, with raw power, his hot breath like torture on my sensitive thighs. This giant tattooed Irishman might be kneeling before me, but I was completely under his control.
“Don’t make me repeat my question.”
“I-I,” I sucked in a breath as our gazes locked. I swear his eyes darkened, “am to just watch.”
“And?”
“And…” I squirmed before freezing, “I am not to move.”
His eyes darkened. “And?”
I felt like crying. “I’m not to come.”
"And what are you trying to do?”
Fuck.
“Come,” I whispered.
“So what does that make you?”
“What?”
“What. Does. That. Make. You?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “A… a naughty girl?”
“A very naughty girl. A very bad girl.” The bastard grinned at me. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
I knew…
He wasn’t finished torturing me.
He pushed his face into my cunt, alternating between slow swirls with the tip of his tongue and languid flat-tongued licks. He pushed two fingers into me, working my g-spot with smooth strokes. It was too fucking slow. It was fucking not enough.
“Please,” I moaned, I begged, “fuck me.”
Put me out of my misery.
He chuckled and the vibrations caused a whole other sensation to wave through my core.
“When I fuck you, I’m not going to take you slow, bit by bit, inch by inch. ’Cause that’s not what you want, is it?”
I shook my head, mumbling incoherently at this point.
“You want it hard. You want my whole cock, all at once.”
“God, yes.” It came out as a growl. A guttural sound from deep inside of me. It came out as a plea, a prayer, a begging down on my knees.
It came out like a gasp, like I was about to go under water. Like I was about to drown. I wanted to fucking drown in him.
And I did. I drowned.
Over and over, Mason bought me to the edge with his tongue, his lips, his fingers. He held me there, dancing me on the edge. Never letting me fall.
It was divine torture.
