Page 87 of Bound in Ashes

“I could make you beg.”

“I am begging.”

“You could beg better.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling my clit.

But it was true. Fuck him for being right.

He dove back in, teasing me but never pushing me over.

My pussy and thighs were slick with my wetness.

“Please, Jack. Please make me come. I need it. I need you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine.

Something shifted in his expression.

Satisfaction.

Victory.

Then his mouth was on me again, and this time he didn’t hold back.

He worked my clit with his tongue with brutal efficiency while his fingers filled me, curling and pumping in rhythm.

The orgasm hit like a bomb.

I screamed his name, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him against me as wave after wave crashed through me.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.

Pushed me through one orgasm and straight into another.

By the time he finally pulled away, I was shaking. Tears streamed down my face.

He crawled up my body, wiping my tears with his thumb.

Then he kissed me. Slow. Deep. Let me taste myself on his tongue.

“Good,” he murmured against my lips. “Because we’re not done.”

He stood, finally undressed.

I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he stripped off his shirt, his pants, freeing his addictive cock.

I reached for him, but he smacked my hand away, settling between my thighs.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did.

He pushed inside. Slow. Inch by agonizing inch.

So full.