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It came in the form of denial.
I wouldn’t let her come, licking her to the point where her body began to shake, the pitch of her voice turning its highest, her legs caving inward, her back arching, her hand pulling at the strands of my hair. Just as she was nearing the peak, I’d pull away.
Over and fucking over.
I even got up at one point. I walked my ass over to the minibar and slowly savored a small bottle of vodka, staring at her spread across the bed. Listening to her begging, seeing the slickness on her cunt, recalling the many trips I’d taken her toward an orgasm. And there, feet away from her pussy, I asked myself why I was doing this.
I wasn’t going to settle down with her.
Date her.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to marry her.
So, why the fuck did it matter that she hadn’t reached out?
Because it pissed me off that she hadn’t wanted more.
Because one time had been enough for her.
Because she hadn’t thought about me, craved me to the point of needing to have me again.
Because she was the one woman who wasn’t completely obsessed with me.
That was why.
I finished the rest of the vodka. I got on my knees, wrapping my arms around the inside of her legs, and I returned to the pussy that gave me more satisfaction than any of the others I’d had in the last six months.
I pressed my nose against her clit—a spot that had to be so worked up that only a little more pressure would set her off. “You can say my name all you want, Lily. You’re not going to come.”
“Please!” She tore at my hair. “I can’t take it.” She rocked her hips forward. “Not for another second.”
I fucking loved hearing this.
Her begging.
Needing.
The scent of her every time I inhaled.
The feel of her wetness against my face.
“You think you deserve to come?”
“Yes!”
I chuckled at the sound of her desperation and pulled my nose away, aiming a finger at her pussy. So far, I hadn’t fingered her. That would get her there even faster, and I wanted to draw this out as long as possible.
But the truth was, I needed her to come.
For me.
Because my cock wanted to be inside her so badly, and my stamina was starting to wear very thin.
“You’d better make me fucking feel it,” I growled against her.
My finger dived through her tightness until I reached the back of my knuckle, and I turned my wrist, pointing upward toward her stomach, heading for the section of her body that would drive her fucking mad.
Her G-spot.
