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“Yes,” she rasped when his fingers found their way back to her thighs.
“Good,” he replied, before he finally sank two fingers into her. There was nothing slow and tender about this, about them. There never had been. It had been a never-ending fight from the moment he’d snatched her chocolate in that alcove.
“Gods,” she gasped.
Her shoulders curled inward as her brow fell to his shoulder and her legs buckled, but he already had a thigh wedged between her legs, keeping her upright. Theon knew then this would forever be his favorite way to see her— writhing and needy for him and him alone. And he needed more of it.
He pressed his thumb to her swollen clit, feeling her clench around his fingers as he pumped them in and out. Her breaths were nothing but sharp, staccato fricatives, her hips moving with every thrust of his fingers.
“Your eyes, Tessa. Give them to me,” he demanded, and her head snapped up. Her grey eyes were glazed with want and desire, and fuck, he was nowhere near done with her.
“Ask me for it,” he ordered.
“Please, Theon,” she cried in frustration, her hips never ceasing their movement as they chased the pleasure from his fingers.
“Please what?” he pushed, pressing his thumb to her center again.
“Fuck!”
“Oh, we will, Tessa. Make no mistake about that,” he replied, a hand coming to her hip and forcing her to still.
The whine that came from her had a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest.
“Theon, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me come.”
The begging.
It did more to him than he thought it would.
He slid his fingers in and out once. So torturously slowly that she cried out in anguish.
“Tell me you’re mine, Tessa. Tell me that, and I’ll make you come. Now. Later. Whenever you want.”
“No,” she ground out, attempting to move her hips again.
His hand stilled, his fingers deep in her soaking center.
“You’ll lie to me about everything else but that?”
But she turned her head to the side, breaking his gaze, and that just wouldn’t do. He’d never wanted an answer more in his life.
“Tell me why, Tessa,” he said, cupping her cheek and bringing her face back to his.
“No.”
“Tessa—”
“No,” she interjected. “I’m not yours, but I’ll use you the same way you’ll use me.”
“I’m not going to use you.”
“Now who’s the liar?” She was squirming against his hand again, trying her damnedest to rock her hips, and he lightly slid his thumb over her clit. “You can call me yours, but that won’t make it true,” she panted.
He pressed down more firmly, moving his thumb in a tight circle, and she cried out when he pulled back just as quickly. “Beautiful, you’ll always be mine. Just because you refuse to accept it doesn’t make it false.”
