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Frustrations sparks. Confusion.
But today is about her. What I know she needs.
Mariah is so used to having control that losing the tight leash around her neck—stepping out of the mold she’s been forced into by other’s careless mistakes—scares her. But she craves it. Silently, she wants to let go and not worry about the consequences, nor the opinion of others about who she should be.
I’m going to gift her what she’s freely given me by just being here when I needed her the most. My Muñeca isn’t meant to be controlled but cherished. She’s meant to fly.
And I’m going to unleash and welcome the craziness with open arms because I am her home. Her peace. Her love.
“You’re serious?” Confusion mars her features for a second—she doesn’t understand my putting on the brakes, but I’m doing it for her. Apart from enjoying the day just the two of us, I want her to relax and enjoy herself. To yearn for and enjoy my touch as the hours pass. “But aren’t you the one that asked for easy access?”
“I did.”
“Then why—”
“Because I enjoy having free access to that lightly tanned flesh and the wetness that coats your inner thighs.” Mariah inhales sharply, chest heaving. “Because when I touch you, I’m not going to ask for permission or deal with obstacles delaying the inevitable.”
“And what’s that?”
Lowering my face down to Mariah, I bypass her pouting lips and kiss the shell of her ear. “My cock buried deep inside that tight little cunt while your screams of pleasure disturb the peace of every beast that roams this jungle. I’m going to take you, baby. Fuck you. But first, I’ll prove that you’re my queen first and whore after.”
Then, I walk away. Give her a moment to collect her thoughts and calm the shivers.
Mariah enters the house an hour later, and she’s calm. A little too calm.
I smile when her small body sits beside me on the couch, relaxing into my side while slipping beneath my arm. Hugging herself to my bare chest. She’s collected, and her body isn’t showing outward signs of arousal, but fuck, I can smell it. This sweet little whisper of her that infiltrates my senses as if she’s touched what’s mine—
Bringing her delicate hand to my lips, I leave open-mouthed kisses over each tip and catch the hint of her taste. Bad girl. “Are you hungry, Mariah?”
“A little.” Voice low and a bit meek, she looks up at me from beneath long lashes with a wisp of contriteness in her expression. You know I know. “Is there anything you’d like me to make?”
“No need.” And because I can, I wrap my lips around her middle and pointer fingers, sucking once and pull back. Mariah’s orbs become heavy-lidded and body rigid, and then her nipples poke through again. Christ, they’re perfect. “I’m here to cater to you, sweetheart.”
“I don’t mind, though. We can cook together and—”
“You’ve done enough.” My girl’s smart enough to not argue—deny— her theft and then nods. “Why don’t you rest for a bit.”
“Can I take a shower or a bath?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Are you uncomfortable?” At my question, she squirms a bit and I smirk. “You touched yourself and will now sit there in your wetness and wait. No complaining. No begging.”
“I can always take a dip in the lake.” Not a threat, but a statement. Pushing to see if I snap and give her the one thing she needs. Craves.
Me. My touch. My cock.
“Go ahead. See what happens if you do.”
No response. No pushing me away.
Instead, Mariah purses her lips and tries to relax back into my arms. She can’t, though.
My denial makes her wet. More than the pathetic orgasm she might’ve had a few minutes prior.
“I didn’t come,” she says this low, so low I almost missed it, but I can’t deny the fire that rushes through my veins at her confession. “Just couldn’t finish.”
