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“So fucking bad,” he says, telling me I’m reading him right. “Make it last, baby. We have all fucking night.”
“You’re saying,” I begin, licking up the side of his cock. “If you come once that’s all you can manage?”
The twitch of his lip almost brings a smile to my face, but I think too much teasing wouldn’t benefit me.
“You’ll make me come as many times as I please,” he growls. “The question is whether or not I’ll let you do the same.”
“You love the way I feel clenching around your cock,” I remind him.
His eyes sparkle with mirth, but in the next breath, he’s prying my mouth open with his fingers and fucking it, using me just the way I like.
I’m slick between my thighs, the borrowed lounge pants too loose to provide any relief no matter how much I rock back and forth.
“You seem needy, baby. Too bad you’re hell-bent on being a brat.”
I don’t pout because it just isn’t part of my dynamic. If anything, I’d rather be stubborn and refuse to orgasm than beg him, although I know he has a few tricks up his sleeves to make me crawl on my hands and knees.
He doesn’t issue a command, choosing to lift me by a strong grip on my hair.
He doesn’t ask me to remove my clothes like he’s done in the past. He pushes down the pants, waiting as I shift my weight from one foot to the next and kick them to the side.
“How’s that needy cunt of yours?” he growls, making my stomach practically twist in on itself.
“Empty,” I complain, pulling a wicked grin to his lips.
He takes a step back, pulling his t-shirt over his head before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his boots and then his jeans.
“Want to watch me?” he asks, his hand working up his length, his fingers moving rougher over his jewelry than I’d ever feel comfortable doing myself.
I shake my head, drawing a quick chuckle from his lips.
“Your other option is closing your eyes and listening.”
I swallow, thinking that him teasing each and every one of my senses would be erotic as hell.
His jaw is loose as he continues to stroke himself.
“Strip,” he says, laughter bubbling out of his throat at the speed in which I move.
I wince in pain when I pull the t-shirt over my head.
I’m grateful he doesn’t pump the brakes. I’d probably claw at his skin if he tried to treat me like some broken doll right now.
“Come here,” he says as he moves to the lounge chair on the far side of the room.
I avoid the mirror directly across from it much like I did the mirror in his room back at the clubhouse. I feel my injuries. I don’t want to see them too.
“Nope,” he says when I try to straddle him. “Back to my front.”
I spin around, backing up and wanting to curl into him when he grips my hip.
“We should—” I begin when I start to lower myself on his cock.
“Not that,” he says, moving me just in time so his cock presses against my slit without entering me.
My legs are trembling uncontrollably when I settle my weight on him. He spreads his knees, forcing my legs wide.
“Haven’t even touched that greedy thing, and it’s already glistening.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I mutter, my eyes downcast so I don’t see my reflection.
“Look,” he growls. “Look at what I own.”
That’s new, and not completely off putting.
I allow my eyes to lift, but my brain short-circuits when he brushes his fingers over me.
His thick cock is standing up straight between my legs, and for the most part, it blocks my view as he circles his thumb over my clit. What I can’t see, he makes up for in making me feel. It’s possible that if we hadn’t been intimate before I might be a little embarrassed at the wet noises he’s causing, but my mind has taken a vacation. All I’m capable of doing is feeling.
He practically purrs in my ear, ramping up the experience. I don’t even have time to ask permission before my body is clenching.
I whimper, still feeling empty and needing more from him. Sawyer is in a giving mood tonight, and he doesn’t make me wait long before he’s sliding two thick fingers as deep as he can manage.
He whispers filthy stuff in my ear, pulling another orgasm from my body that’s so strong, it makes me forget all my other pain.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers as he pulls his hand from me before stroking his length.
His thumb brushes against me as he pleases himself. If I weren’t already drained, I know that it would have the power to make me come again.
Three strokes is all it takes before ropes of cum paint my skin.
