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“No,” I whisper.
“Still not wet enough?” He laughs softly.
“No. I’m wet enough.”
I want him to move. I want him to thrust. I want him to fuck me for Christ’s sake. But all I can do is wait, my bare toes grasping restlessly at the crimson-colored rag rug beneath my feet. I dare not move. I’ve done that before only to have Derrick withdraw and start again from scratch. This will go by his timetable. No one else’s.
“Are you sure?” He rotates his hips a bit. Just enough to press the thrumming nerve endings deep inside of me.
His fingers move in my ass. In-out-in-out, a lazy I-have-all-the-time-in-the-world rhythm as he rolls his hips from side to side making my cunt grasp up tight. He does have all the time in the world. And he’s using it to humble me. Make me crazy, make me beg.
I give him what he wants as a little cry flies off my lips and I say, “Please, Derrick. Please, please, please.”
I hear him laugh and his fingers move in and out of my back hole so that I am biting my lip hard enough to taste the coppery kiss of blood. It’s too much, it’s too good. The pressure and the friction and the fact that it’s so taboo and happens to be one of my favorite things in the world. I wish it was his cock there and that thought triggers another galloping flex of my internal muscles.
“You sure are ready. Wet and ready and in need of a break if I’m not mistaken…”
“Yes.” I move back just a hair before catching myself. But I’ve broken the code, I’ve prompted him and that is a no-no. Derrick stills completely.
“You looked very tense.” His hands are sliding along my bottom, his fingers tickling at my skin. He’s not thrusting his cock or his fingers in my bum. He’s making me suffer. Delicious suffering.
“I was.”
“You’d probably like to blow off some steam.”
“I would.”
“Have some pleasure.”
“Yes.”
“Can you stand the waiting?”
“No,” I sob, and he laughs again.
“Fair enough.” He cracks me one good blow on my tingling bottom and I jump a bit. It all fades away, though, on that one blow because he’s finally moving. Thrusting deep and hard, filling me so swiftly that I lift up off the floor but for my very tippy toes. I grip the edge of the sink and watch my hair swirl around the drain like a mermaid’s hair swirling in ocean water.
I’m going to come, but I want him to know how much I needed this. How good this is. How much I love him, so I say softly, “May I?”
His voice has gone to a growl, his fingers pushed to the very top knuckles in my ass. I can feel his fingers and his cock sliding along each other through the thin barrier of my internal flesh. Just beneath the surface. There is always something just beneath the surface, isn’t there?
“You may,” Derrick says and I come. My eyes leaking thankful tears as my body shudders and plucks at him. Wrapping around his driving flesh like I can keep him close and hold him inside.
His free hand grips my hip and his fingers dig hard and deep into the thicker flesh there. I will wear fingerprints for days I’m sure and god, that is the best thing I can think of. The knowledge makes me come again.
“I don’t know, are you wet enough to come twice?” he chuckles, but I can hear the barely there control in his voice. I can hear the cracks in his mental foundation. I can hear how much he wants to join me.
So I prompt him. I squeeze my pussy tight, and I say, “Come with me, please.”
He’s given me something I didn’t even know I needed, and now I want him to have his. I squeeze again and again and trip myself into yet another small release.
“Fuck. Dirty fighting, sweetheart,” he grunts and he’s looped his arm around my waist and he’s holding me close. His teeth on my shoulder making sparkles of pain bloom there and when he empties into me, his whole big body goes taut and I can feel his muscles tremble.
It’s the most gorgeous feeling. The feeling of energy and release moving through the human body. Humming along in the blood, swimming under the skin. Just beneath the surface.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FANTASIES FIRST—
