Page 128 of Carrick
“No.”
The denial was absolute. Delivered without cruelty. Just conviction.
He pressed the toy back to me again, a little harder this time. My back arched. My breath scattered.
“I want you aching,” he said. “I want you desperate. I want you begging like you don’t care who hears.”
He pulled away again just as I climbed toward the peak.
I made a sound—something soft and shattered—and he kissed my inner thigh, slow and unhurried.
“You’ll take what I give you,” he murmured. “And you’ll thank me for it.”
The third time he brought the vibrator back, he increased the setting—just enough. It was sharper now. Cruel in the best way. My body surged toward orgasm, frantic and hot and uncontrollable.
And then?—
Gone.
I cried out, the frustration snapping free of my throat.
“Please, please, Sir—please just let me?—”
“No.”
A hand gripped my jaw. Not harsh. Just firm.
“You don’t cum until I say. You don’t fall until Iletyou.”
The dominance in his voice hit like a blow—fierce and steady and impossible to fight.
And God help me, I didn’t want to fight.
I wanted tosurrender.
He started again. The same cycle. Slow build. Pressure. Denial.
I lost count of how many times he brought me to the edge and held me there, how many times I begged, how many ways I offered myself up like a sacrifice in exchange for release.
My thighs were trembling. My throat was raw. I was soaked—dripping and wrecked and shaking with the kind of need that bordered on pain.
And he still didn’t let me fall.
Not yet.
“You can take more,” he whispered against my skin. “You haven’t even started to break.”
And that—that—was when I realized he was right.
I hadn’t broken.
But I would.
And when I did, it would be for him.
Time unraveled.There was no clock in my head anymore, just a slow, spiraling descent into ache. Every second blurred into sensation: pressure and denial, heat and absence, the steady weight of Carrick’s voice dropping into me like stones into still water. He’d taken my panties off at some point—ripped them apart with such intensity it left marks along my hips—and now I lay bare and open for him, every part of me exposed. His. And I wanted nothing else.
My body thrummed, strung so tight it hurt to breathe. Every muscle trembled with restraint. Every nerve screamed to be touched, to be taken, to be finished.
