I wish I could lean forward enough to lick it up.
“Don’t tease me,” I say, hips trying to jolt upward again, trying to make him press down harder. “I want to come.”
“Is that right?” he says, as unhurried as ever.
“Yes,” I try to snap out, though it sounds more like a whine. How he can make me feel so desperate so quickly is like a spell he’s able to cast. I’ve never been so deliriously lost in lust as I am when I’m with him. And then, like pure magic, his hand moves faster, harder, making me moan, making me arch, making me build and build and build and—
“No!”
His hand is suddenly gone, and so is my orgasm.
I glare up at him, chest rising and falling like I’ve just run up five flights of stairs. “Why’d you stop? I was about to come.”
The infuriating male gets up from the mattress, his weight gone, dress no longer fastened down. My legs tingle from the relief, and I sit up on an elbow and then instantly slip my hand down my front. I shuck up my skirt, drive my fingers right down, ready to circle over my aching clit—
My wrist is manacled by a resolute grip, caught beneath my dress, stopping me right before I could reach my needy spot. “Let go.”
Ignoring me, he shoves his pants down with his other hand and then instead, brings my hand back to his dick.
Instead of stroking it, I squeeze. Hard. Not in a firm, sensual way. Not like I usually do for him, but callous and pissed, full of warning. But the asshole doesn’t even flinch. Nope, he just groans. As if me squeezing him like I want to juice a lemon is pleasurable.
“Mmm, so aggressive,” he says darkly, shoving his hips forward as if asking for more. “Trying to punish me?”
“Yes.” This time, I try to reach for his balls. Let’s see if he likes that part of him handled so hard.
But he must be attuned with my movements, because he snatches my wrist again, and then as quick as a blink, I’m flat on my back and both of my wrists are pinned above my head.
“You lost the privilege of your hands, my lady.”
Excitement bursts through me, scattering across the bottom of my stomach. Maybe our fae nature makes us more similar than I know, because I seem to like it when he’s aggressive too.
But I scowl at him anyway.
“If you’re not going to make me come, I’ll do it myself.”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “You won’t. So long as I’m in the room, I’m the one who will bestow pleasure upon you. I’m the one who decides when you come.”
I lift my head slightly. “Then do it,” I challenge.
If my body could speak for me, it would’ve come out as a plea.
He gives me a dark look, eyes roving over my disheveled appearance. “Keep your hands above your head. Don’t move them.”
I swallow hard with a nod, and as soon as I do, he releases my wrists.
He stands over me, finger dragging down with his gaze. “Look at this,” he murmurs, his other hand grazing around the wet spot on my stomach. “You’ve made my cock a dripping mess. It’s practically salivating to feast on your pussy.”
My hips lift in invitation.
He fists his dick, giving himself a couple lazy strokes, and the move is so sexy that it makes me red-hot from the waist down.
“Mmm. Maybe I should just make you watch. I could spill the rest of my cum all over your pretty dress. Watch you writhe and whine as I hold back this cock that you want so badly.”
My breath snags. “No,” I say, shaking my head.
Even with the sconces burning along their spot on the walls, it’s still dim in here, and with him standing over me, stroking himself, it makes me feel even more carnal, as if the dark is the safe keeper of all things lustful and wicked.
He continues to move his hand forwards and back. “You don’t even know what you’ve unlocked, letting my cock drip all over your pretty dress,” he says, movements slow. Even. As if he’s not torturing me with this erotic tease. “It makes me want to sink my teeth into your neck and leave a mark in your skin. Makes me want to strip you down, your mouth open, tongue out, and cum all over your chest, your pussy, your face. Makes me want to smear it over your tits, rub it against your pouting lips, watch you swallow it down as I smooth the cream right over your throbbing pussy.”
My eyes have gone wide, my pulse jumping with titillation. “Great Divine…”
“You’d be so covered in me that I’d be able to smell it,” he growls, as if he’s already feeling possessive of the idea, already wanting to bring it to fruition.