Page 26 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

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She gasps, half in frustration, half in shock.

"Every time you talk back, I stop," I say mildly. "Every time you sass me, I pull away."

Her nails scrape the desk.

I can feel her heartbeat now, pounding beneath the thin skin of her thighs, hear it in the little hitches of breath she can’t quite hide.

I lick her again, but this time I don’t stop.

I flatten my tongue and drag it from the bottom of her entrance to the tip of her clit, then trace soft, maddening circles.

Not pressure.

Not release.

Justtease.

"I bet no one’s ever made you beg," I whisper, breath hot as I speak against her. "Bet they were all too busy being afraid of your mouth to see what it looked like when you moaned."

Her breath catches.

Her legs tense against my shoulders.

I glance up and see her eyes shut tight, her hands clutching the desk edge like it’s a lifeline.

"Open your eyes."

She doesn’t.

I bite her inner thigh.

Lightly.

Enough.

Her eyes fly open, furious and aroused, and I give her what she wants—briefly.

I suck her clit between my lips and flick my tongue in fast, slow pulses, just enough to make her hips buck.

I press her flat to the desk with one arm, holding her down, while my other hand trails up her stomach, slow and possessive.

"You’re going to come on my mouth," I say between licks. "And then I’m going to make you say thank you for it."

She lets out a sound that’s almost a growl.

Half-defiant, half-broken.

Good.

Let her hate that she likes this.

Let her come undone on a desk built for control.

My tongue moves faster now, lips wrapping her clit, pulling soft, wet gasps from her lips.

Her legs start to shake, and I know she’s close.

So close. I stop, and she chokes on a noise, lifting her head, eyes wild.

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