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“Oh,” I gasp as heat shivers through me.
He isn’t gentle, and I like it. He watches my reaction closely and I know any sign of pain or discomfort would stop this whole situation, but that’s the last thing I want.
I want him to keep doing this. I love his expression, like he’s had a taste of control for the first time and needs more.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes.” Rory holding me on his knee and taking what he needs lights up my whole body. “Take what you want, Rory.”
He groans, jaw tight, pinning me with his focus. “This is exactly what I want. I want to keep you here like this.” His gaze drops to where his fingers are deep inside me, touching a part of me I’ve never been able to reach. “I love it when you’re a good girl for me like this.”
Pleasure unfurls through me and I clench my teeth, breathing hard. This might be my kink, watching Rory get what he wants.
“You’re close.”
“No, I’m not.” Yes, I am, but how much further can I push him? “The last time was a fluke.”
His hand moves to the back of my head, and when his fingers thread into my hair, pulling a fistful tight, light blooms through me like a sunrise. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but with his strength, his size, and the knowing, focused look in his eyes, the message is clear.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, gaze raking over me like his control is fraying. “You’re going to sit on my lap and come on my fingers like I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”
Rory’s expression is awestruck and curious, like he’s surprised himself, pupils huge and mouth slanted up in a reluctant smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this very, very much.
When I clench up around him, he smiles more.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
I’m always in control. Always. But him holding me down in his lap, stuffing me full of his fingers while I spiral higher and higher—it’s working for me. He tilts my head back another inch, baring my throat, and his smug grin slides higher.
“Oh, no,” he says in a low, teasing voice. “You’re not going to come, are you?”
On a broken exhale, I shake my head, still clinging to his gaze.
“Because you don’t do that with guys, right?”
“Right.” My eyes start to close but his grip on my hair tightens.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” Against my hip, his steel cock presses with urgency. “You’re making a mess on me, Hartley.”
He crooks his fingers, finding that spot inside me that makes me lose my mind, and my nails dig into his pecs as pleasure arcs through me.
“I love how you try to fight me,” he says in my ear, nipping the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder. “You don’t know how many times I thought about this when you were tutoring me.”
I bite back a moan, imagining us doing this in the library, me trying to be silent while his fingers stretch me out and make stars dance behind my eyes. The pressure inside me coils tighter and I’m starting to shake against him.
“Don’t stop,” I moan against his shoulder as he works my G-spot. My pleasure bears down on me, circling closer and closer.
“God, Hartley,” he growls as my toes start to curl, “I needed this so bad.”
Around his fingers, my muscles tighten. He grips my hair harder, tipping me back farther to look up into his eyes while he wears that wicked, knowing smile and brings his thumb to my aching clit, rubbing tight, fast circles.
I can’t hold off any longer.
My orgasm hits me hard, bursting behind my vision and sweeping through me. I’m gasping words likepleaseandyesandRoryandoh godwhile he watches me unravel on his knee, shaking and shattering and sobbing at how fucking incredible the waves of pleasure feel. He doesn’t let up from my G-spot, doesn’t stop his fingers from delving in and out as I clamp around them, and even while blood is whooshing in my ears and my face is in his shoulder, I can hear how wet I am as he fills me again and again.
When I slump against him, catching my breath, his mouth is on my temple, on the shell of my ear, my neck, my cheek. I tip my face up to him, feeling drunk and drained in the best way, and he smiles against my lips.
“Good job me,” he says, and I laugh silently.
