Page 145 of Craving Consequences

His hands slide up my sticky spine to cup the back of my head. I’m brought down, my mouth captured by his.

“Because this isn’t about cumming,” he murmurs against my lips.

“But...” I try to wiggle, but he pins me tighter.

“No,” he says firmly. “You want to be my good girl?” he waits for my reluctant nod. “Then sit. Still. Let me feel your pussy throb around me. That’s all you’re allowed to do.”

My walls clench instinctively and his breath stutters against my cheek. But I hold still.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “That’s what I want.”

Despite telling me to stay still, he shifts us. He scoots back across the sheets until his back is against the headrest. His arms stay locked around me. his cock buried to the hilt where I need him most.

But we don’t move.

We sit that way, locked on the edge of agony and bliss. So close to tipping on either side.

His mouth brushes my collarbone, trails along my throat and mouth. light, simple sweeps so sweet my eyes roll to the back of my head. He nuzzles along my jaw. His lips trace a path to my ear. The tenderness is such a devastating contrast to the thick slab of concrete wedged inside me that I whine.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he murmurs, nipping at my chin. “You’re so tight, Evie. So greedy.”

A small, strangled sound escapes me. My head falls back as my body seizes with need.

His fingers glide along the arc of my spine. Follow the bumps from nape to tailbone. Featherlight skims that I feel wrap around my core and squeeze. The area blazes, turning my skin to raw nerves, hyper aware of everything he’s doing to me.

I want to move. I want to roll my hips, just a fraction. Just enough to feel him. But I don’t.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises sweetly. “Let me feel how badly you want it without giving it to me.”

Tears sting my eyes, burn the corners, but I bite them back. I focus on the pulse in my core, the aching pressure of him inside me.

He cups the back of my neck and guides my brow to his. Brings us close. Tangles our every breath together.

“You’re so beautiful like this. So fucking perfect. I could stay buried in you for hours. Just like this. Just feeling you warm my cock with your little cunt.”

I whimper and clench. Hard. Unintentionally.

Van hisses between his teeth. “Easy, baby. You’re going to make me cum. I’m already so close.”

The thought of having that kind of power over him, of being the reason he loses control has a shudder running through me. Has my thighs quivering and my fingers sliding up his shoulders to thread into his hair.

“How close?” I prod.

His tight grin is pressed into my lips. “Close enough that I want to fuck your swollen cunt until you can’t remember your own name.”

The area in question thrums. It rushes with a fresh wave of arousal that washes down his shaft to soak the sheets under him.

“Yes,” I beg. “God, please, Van.”

His hands tighten. His cock twitches violently inside me. I think I’ve won, but he drops his lips to lick the column of my throat.

“Not yet, little brat.” His fingers fist in my hair and drags my head back for better access. “Just a little longer. Let it hurt. That’s what makes it so good.”

We’re both shuddering and panting. Every nerve and muscle raw with exertion and restraint. When he takes my mouth, claims my tongue, there is nothing soft in either of us. We’re animals devouring. Consuming. Nails and teeth sink and bite and lick. All the while, neither of us dare move our hips like we’re holding a grenade between our bodies that a single bump might set off.

“That’s it. Hold it for me. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

The rough praises burned into my mouth sustain me. Hold me when all I want to do is crumble.

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