Page 28 of Vallaverse: Twist
“Yes,” he pants. “More. Please.”
I grip him tightly and twist my fist, watching his stomach move with his gasping breaths. I twist over the head and he jackknifes into an upright position. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, trying to force me to stroke him faster.
I let go completely, and he snarls.
“I told you I would stop if you moved.”
He lies back down.
“Can you stay like that?”
He nods quickly.
I run a fingertip across his leaking head. “I don't believe you.”
“I will,” he pants. “I promise.”
He's a liar. “Put your hands by your sides.”
It isn't so much that I want Laz to be still. I would much prefer to watch him flail and writhe all over this bed, but I can't allow him to cling to me. The strength of my determination to leave this room without fucking and knotting him is not boundless. If he clings to me, if I allow him to wrap himself around me, I won't leave him until his heat lifts.
And I will kill his Alpha if she tries to stop me.
Which will hurt him.
So I can't allow it.
I plant my knees on either side of him, trapping his hands against his sides, and lower my weight onto his thighs.
“Brooks,” he chokes out.
“I've got you,” I purr, and wrap my hand around him again.
I stroke him easily, not too fast or slow, and cradle his balls with my opposite hand. His entire body twitches with every movement, and he continuously leaks. If I were to slide my fingers between his thighs, I would find him absolutely soaked.
I keep the steady pace until he's practically thrashing under my weight and nearly bucking me off, then I tighten my grip and jerk him with purpose.
His back bows and he releases a string of incoherent curses.
He's getting hotter and harder with each pass. He's almost there. “You're going to cum for me soon, Laz. I can feel it. Your balls are so tight.” I squeeze them gently for emphasis. “And you're so fucking hard. It's going to feel so good.”
“Yes,” he huffs. “Don't stop.”
“I won't,” I purr. “I want you to cum all over my hands.”
He groans, and his body tightens impossibly. Tighter and tighter and tighter...
But nothing happens. His orgasm doesn't come. And then he lets out a broken sob.
“Please!” he cries. “Please, don't stop. I can do it. I need it. Please, Brooks. Please.”
I don't know what's wrong, but I don't stop.
“Almost,” he grits out. “I'm almost there.”
He isn't, though. He's strung so tightly that it looks painful. Even the muscles in his feet are locked up so hard that the joints pop.
“Please,” he sobs again. “Please.”
