Page 172 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
He meets my gaze again as his breath whispers over skin that breaks out with goose bumps in response. “I control your pleasure, dragonfly. You come when I let you.”
I nod my agreement frantically as his mouth lowers until his lips are inches away from my exposed and glistening sex. “Yes.”
Just as long as it’s soon.
That forked tongue slips out, long and sinuous as it swirls in the pooling wetness at my core and then swipes up. The dual tips somehow manage to swipe either side of my clit at once, making every muscle below my waist clench.
“Bree,” I moan, digging my fingers into the bedding so I don’t do something stupid like grab his ears and grind myself against his face.
In answer, he flicks his tongue rapidly against the bundle of nerves that need it most. My back bows off the bed, hurtling towards orgasm, and my head slams back against the cushions. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pleasure burning me alive.
Only for him to stop.
“No!” I cry out, trying to snap my legs shut, to rub my thighs together. Anything that might put pressure on my clit.
His large hands pin me open, keeping my quivering pussy exposed as I writhe through the agonising burn of his denial.
“Look at me.”
I do, though my eyesight is blurry.
“Keep your legs open. If you move, this stops.”
I’m about to ask what ‘this’ is, given that he’s currently doing nothing, but then he releases my thighs and slides one long, calloused finger inside me.
My cunt clenches down on the intrusion, and my whole body weeps in relief as he slowly thrusts, providing a delicious friction that dulls the barbs of denied rapture. Then his tongue darts out—human this time—providing a warm, wet lick that’s firmer and less teasing than before.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.I chant in my head. I can’t take another denied orgasm.
Then he adds a second finger and curls up to find that spot on my front wall. I can’t help it. My leg jerks reflexively.
He stills. “Did you just move?”
He knows I did. He’s just playing with me.
My pussy clenches on his motionless fingers, trying desperately to steal an orgasm before he can take them away. “I didn’t mean to.”
Bree shrugs. “Well, you know the consequences.”
But there’s a fine tremor in his hands as he pulls away. A feverish light enters his eyes as they linger over my body.
“Bree.” His name is half-plea, half-warning on my lips.
Without warning, he drags his fingers free, grabs the base of his cock and thrusts into me. Hard. He’s hilt-deep before I can even process what’s happened.
“Bree!” This time, it’s a primal scream as he loses control.
There’s nothing of the clinically controlled male from just moments ago in him as his hands come down on my waist and he drives himself into my body again and again and again. I force my eyes to stay open, to lock onto his, but I’m not sure if he’s here with me or caught in the past.
“I love you,” I whisper, even as I writhe and whimper under the force of his thrusts. “I’m here, and I love you.”
My pussy spasms, trying in vain to hold him in place as he hammers into my body like he’s possessed. Pleasure builds, cascades, then builds again, but I hold the orgasm back through force of will, remembering his earlier words.
I won’t be like the other women who took pleasure from him. I want him to gift it to me. So instead, I whisper hundreds of ‘I love you’s even when I think I might pass out from denying myself.
He comes but doesn’t stop. Doesn’t soften. His seed adds to the damp quilts beneath us and makes the lewd wet noises filling the room louder still. My hands are white knuckled, abdomen twisting and untwisting as I tremble.
“Bree, Bree, Bree,” I chant. “Bree, I need… Goddess. Ineedto come.”
