Page 11 of Rogue’s Mark

"Rogue—"

"We're doing this my way, Vi," I tell her. "Since you're so interested in being included."

The eye roll threatens to make a return appearance. I can see it coming. But when I run my thumb across the inside of her wrist, the eye roll loses the fight.

"That's what I thought," I say.

I get her shirt off and she immediately reaches for mine. I let her have that because she needs to be doing something with her hands before she starts thinking or talking again. Her fingers work my buttons while I put my mouth on her throat, and when she tips her head back against the pillow, I know I’ve got her.

She gets my shirt open and her hands are on my chest. She's thorough. Deliberate.

"You've been planning this," I say to her.

"Shut up, Rogue."

I shut up.

For approximately forty-five seconds.

She makes a sharp noise that turns into something much better when my hand finds her.

She grabs the sheets under us with both hands when, finally, I get my mouth on her. I say finally because in spite of our debate and standoff, the God’s honest truth is that this was in the back of my mind since the moment I arrived. Okay, maybe not just the back of my mind.

It’s what she does to me.

Her pussy’s wet, slick against my tongue, like I knew it would be. She might like playing the ballbuster in her day-to-day, but I know what gets under her skin and I love giving it to her. She can’t fool me. Ever.

I take my time because she’s so damn delicious and because the sounds she makes when I work her over are worth the patience she costs me. Her hips roll up, demanding more, and I press her back down and hold her in place while I stroke her from top to bottom, unhurried, spreading her open with the flat of my tongue before I find her clit and plant myself there.

"Rogue," she breathes.

"Mmmm?"

The vibration makes her gasp. I do it again on purpose, sliding two fingers inside her while I work her with my mouth. I curl until she clenches around me, and her hand comes down into my hair and grips, hard.

"Please," she says, all breathless. "Rogue, please⁠—"

That gets results. I suck her clit between my lips and work my fingers deeper into her pussy. She’s building toward her edge, her whole body bucking off the bed, saying my name while she rides against my mouth.

I give her about thirty seconds before she explodes.

Before she’s done coming, I slide over her, and she reaches for me before I've even settled my weight, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking once, twice, her grip firm and deliberate.

"I want—" she starts.

"Yeah," I say. "I know."

I position myself and push into her slowly, feeling her stretch, watching her face while I do it. Her mouth falls open and her eyes go dark. I pull back and push in again, deeper this time, burying my cock, and she makes a sound low in her throat that will haunt me for all my days. In a good way.

"More," she says.

"Patience, pretty girl."

"Rogue," she says in a lower register now. Not a complaint but more of a demand.

I go in for the kill.

She arches up to meet me and I set the pace, pounding her hard and steady, her legs wrapping around my waist to pull me deeper. Her nails find my back and her mouth finds my throat. I get my hand between us, my thumb on her clit while I fuck her, and she clenches tight around me and comes again, shuddering, biting my shoulder to muffle it.