Page 40 of Untamed Sinner

"You want me to bury my face in your cunt and make you come on my tongue?"

She groans.

“Answer me, Amanda,” I order softly.

"God, yes,” she says on a gasp.

I run my palm over my erection, and her eyes track the movement. She wants me to take it out. I have a feeling she’d like to watch me get myself off as much as I like watching her.

Not going to happen. Not tonight.

My hand drops back to my side, fingers curling into a fist. "What else do you want?"

"You inside me." She pants, and I can tell by the tenor of her voice that she’s close. "I want you to fuck me in this chair until I can't remember my own name."

Fuck, I want that too. "You want me to make you feel it."

"Yes."

"Not just the orgasm,” I clarify. I want to hear her say it. “Everything."

Her eyes are glassy now, her hand moving with desperate precision. "Everything I've been avoiding for thirteen years."

My hands grip the doorframe. I’ve never felt a need this fierce. It takes all my discipline to stay where I am instead of going to her, getting on my knees, and licking into her like I want. I’ve never been so desperate for a taste of anything—ever.

Her body starts to tighten, her thighs tremble, and I know she's close. The signs are obvious—shallow breathing, her nipples puffy and red, the way her free hand grips the arm of the chair.

"Hendricks, come here."

I want to. I want to cross this threshold, to give her what she wants, to take what I need. My shoulders are so tight they burn. My jaw aches from clenching.

But I don't move. "No."

Her eyes flash with something between frustration and arousal. "Why not?"

"Because when I fuck you, Amanda, it won't be because you're testing me." I meet her eyes and hold them. My voice is steady even though my pulse is hammering. "It'll be because you're ready to let me in."

She comes then—hard and silent, her teeth biting into her lip, her body arching in the chair, her hand still moving through the aftershocks. I stand and watch every second of it, rooted in place, every muscle locked. My cock pulses. My control hangs by a thread. Sweat slides down my temple.

When she finally opens her eyes again, I'm already turning away. My hand releases the doorframe, fingers stiff from gripping it so hard.

"Hendricks—"

"Good night, Mandy," I say, closing the door firmly.

Entering my room, I lock the door before I go to the back of my closet and pull out her panties from behind the safe.

39

MANDY

The first guy I had sex with after I got free was a disappointment.

So was the second.

By the third, I’d figured out the problem wasn’t them. It was me. To me, sex isn’t about connecting and cuddling. It’s about control and release.

My body belongs entirely to me. I decide what happens to it. I decide when it starts, when it stops, and when I walk away.