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In a swooping move, he tugs me farther up the mattress and then cages his large frame over mine. He pins my wrists above my head, and our eyes lock. He claims, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
"Take care of what?"
He ignores my question and reminds me, "'Stop' is the safe word, in case you forgot."
Anger fills me. I hurl out, "Of course I didn't forget. But I'm not having sex with you, Riggs!"
"No, you aren't right now. You haven't earned my dick inside you. In fact, you've been nothing but disobedient lately," he replies.
I glare at him, then spout, "I'm not the one who fucked up our life!"
He grinds his molars, studying me, then challenges, "Say your safe word, pet." A wildfire bursts across his expression.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I've always been a sucker for Riggs, especially when he gets that heated look on his face. And I curse myself for being so weak.
He slides his hand between our bodies, slipping his long fingers under my leggings, then between my panties. He slips through my slickness and positions his thumb on my clit. Two of his fingers enter me, and I whimper.
My breath turns ragged, my cheeks heating hotter with each second, yet I can't take my eyes off him. I can't use the safe word and tell him to stop.
He challenges again, "Say the safe word, pet." His determined, crazy expression explodes against his dark features.
It's everything I've missed that I can't shake, no matter how hard I try.
I dream about how he looks at me when he needs to take control of my body.
My spine buzzes with anticipation, knowing what he can do to me with very little effort.
His hot breath merges with mine, making my mouth water, desperate for his lips to crash into mine. Yet he keeps them an inch from me, fully aware he's torturing me. He pumps his fingers inside me, swiping and curling in all the right spots while seamlessly circling his thumb on my clit.
A moan fills the air, and it takes me a moment to register it's mine. I thrust my hips into his palm, needing more.
He freezes, demanding, "Did I permit you to grind your pussy on me?"
I swallow hard, barely breathing, staying quiet.
Say the safe word.
I can't. I need this.
I don't.
"I expect you to answer me," he warns.
I lick my lips, glancing at his mouth, dying to taste everything I've been craving. I take several inhales of his intoxicating scent and try to secretly push against him.
He catches me and repeats in his commanding tone, "Tell me if I granted you permission to grind your pussy on me. And address me appropriately."
Without thinking, I submit, blurting out, "No, Sir."
That same look passes in his expression, but it doesn't stay long enough for me to decipher it. I attempt not to fall prey to him again, weakly claiming, "Riggs. We shouldn't be doing this."
He manipulates my body, quickening his speed, and taunts, "If you believe that, then say your safe word, pet."
I can't, nor do I want to. It's been too long since he's touched me. Too many nights have passed since we've been together or I've felt the high he gives me. So instead, I whisper before I can stop myself, "Please!"
"That's not your safe word!" he growls, then leans into my ear and murmurs, "You didn't say, Sir. You just added to your punishment later tonight."
Adrenaline rushes faster through me. The mere thought of him punishing me almost makes me giddy.
