Page 12 of Mine To Break
He growled and pushed his head against her fingers, but Mal was no little cream-puff girl. She rose up, putting more of her weight onto her knees, pinning his arms and his head at the same time, and he couldn’t get his mouth on her. At least not without risking banging her head on the wall or tossing her off the bed if he heaved with all his strength. He couldn’t risk hurting her.
Somehow, when he’d imagined her thighs wrapped around his head, he hadn’t pictured it quite this way.
“Don’t come until I tell you. That’s the second rule. Got it?”
He nodded his head as well as he could under her hand, but that wasn’t good enough for the Mistress of Dallas.
“Say it. Now. Out loud.”
“I won’t,” he panted. “Come. Until you say.”
“Good boy.” But she still didn’t let his head up. “Take all that need, all that frustration, and let it growl in your voice as you say my name.”
“Mal.”
Rock hard muscle beneath her, pinned, waiting for her command. Fuck. Was there any bigger turn on?
She lifted her hand from his head and he immediately leaned up and sucked at her flesh like a starving man. Letting her head fall back, she held herself still and allowed herself to simply feel. It’d been too damned long since she’d had a man’s tongue beneath her, and she couldn’t fault his technique or his enthusiasm. He wasn’t afraid to get messy and dove right in, nose deep, tongue flattened against her, eager to explore. It was easy to come. Easy to let the pleasure pour from her lips on a deep purr of satisfaction—especially when his enthusiasm, and yeah, desperation, increased exponentially.
He worked his face harder against her, putting those neck and shoulder muscles to good use, but he managed to keep his hands locked around the lower bar of the headboard. Even more importantly, he didn’t come. She glanced over her shoulder and checked the condition of his cock. Painfully hard, deep purplish red, still fully engaged in their play. So far so good, though she’d need to get that belt off him soon to avoid compromising blood flow.
But first…
With the edge of her desire knocked down a bit, it was time to play, at least a little. She shifted her weight forward, making sure he felt the force of her knees holding him down. She sat deeper on him, pushing his head back down to the pillow, both to give his neck a break, and to make him feel her dominance. The first time had been light, pleasant, fun. Immediate gratification. This time when she came, she was going to detonate his kink cherry. He’d know once and for all that he’d been well and truly dominated.
His shoulders bucked up beneath her. Testing her strength. If she softened, he’d have his hands on her in a second, likely rolling her beneath him. Everything he’d do with a vanilla woman in the throes of ecstasy. Wrapping her hands around the bars of her bed, she bore down harder on him and began moving on top of him. Riding his face, letting his shoulders rock her. He managed to spear his tongue inside her a few strokes, until she pulled back a moment to make sure he could catch his breath. His chest heaved beneath her, every muscle and ligament standing out in stark relief beneath his taut skin. It took every ounce of his strength and determination to keep his hands where she’d told him.
It’d be so easy for him to throw her off. Ignore her command and seize her breast in one of those powerful hands. Flip her off to the side. He could be balls-deep in a second. And yeah, she wanted that too—but in her time. Not his.
He didn’t have to lie beneath her like this. He allowed her to have her way with every inch of his magnificent body. That, more than the friction of his whiskers against her tender skin or his tongue on her clit spiraled her lust higher. He could have refused. He could have fought. He could have denied her.
But he didn’t. He allowed it.
So many people thought submission made a man whipped. Weak, emasculated, humiliated. Some men definitely got off on that. But for her, the ultimate submission was exactly this. A strong, powerful man who chose to allow her full access. Who denied himself in order to please her.
Such an incredible man.
Shuddering, she came again, grinding her clit harder against his face, even while she managed to reach back and yank the bow loose on his cock.
He heaved up beneath her, dislodging her back onto his chest.
“Fuck,” he roared out, rolling his head back and forth on the pillow. “Mal, please, for Christ’s sake.”
Panting, she worked the belt off. “What do you want, soldier boy?”
“Let me fuck you.”
His words sent another wave of lust thundering through her. He didn’t demand his own pleasure. He didn’t make a statement of his needs. Even with blood flooding his restricted cock, he still managed to ask,let me. Not I want.
“Go for it, sugar.” His eyes popped open, his biceps bulging even more if that was possible. One last desperate grip on the bed in case he was mistaken. “Show me how good you can fuck. Give me all you’ve got.”
