“We were.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and that right there pisses me off. He knew exactly what he was doing and instead of finishing me off, he’s going to leave me wishing he gave me more.
Well, I’m not going to have it.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?” He quirks a brow.
“Yup. Fine.” If he’s not going to finish what he started, then I am. I push past him and go to my nightstand, where I open the bottom drawer and whip out my vibrating wand.
I plug in the wand, lie down on my bed, and I’m about to stick the wand down my shorts when it’s grabbed from above me. My eyes immediately find Pike’s angry ones.
“Give me that.” I reach for it.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“If you’re going to come, you’re coming on my terms.”
Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, he whips his belt off his waist and places the bulb of the wand right at my clit, over my silk shorts.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer, instead, he takes the belt, loops it under my legs and over the wand and secures it tightly, keeping the wand in place and my legs shut.
Oh.
God.
Then, he gets up on the bed with me and straddles my body. He sits back on his heels, only to reach up and turn on the wand.
The heavy vibration shivers against my clit and I suck in a sharp breath. I’m not going to last long at all.
But then he turns it off. No longer than five seconds was it shaking against me. The fucker.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t tease me.”
“Tell me you want it.”
Of course he wants me to beg. He wants control, he wants to see me falter.
This is dangerous. I shouldn’t be engaging in this kind of behavior with him because I know it’s weakening my defenses, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to stop him. I want this. I need this. I’m desperate for that connection with him, if anything to edge out this tension that has been building and accumulating between us.
But my stubborn pride can’t seem to let out the words.
“Not going to give in, are you?” he asks. “Okay. Fine by me.” He flicks on the wand and it vibrates for two seconds before he flicks it off again.
The asshole.
He does it again.
And again.
And again, until I’m squirming and a light sheen of sweat breaks out over my heated skin.
“Pike, you motherfucker.”
His finger lands on my stomach and he trails circles around my belly button.
“Say it, Cora. Say you want this.”
“Do you really think I would admit that?”
“If you want to come, you will.”
I keep my mouth shut and look away.
“Very well.” He trails his fingers up my torso until they reach the hem of my top. He stares down at me and then, in one smooth motion, he lifts my top, exposing my breasts.
And his eyes feast.
I feel him grow hard. I see the way my body affects him, and I was right—dressing like this will not push him away, it’s going to make him go even further with me.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers as he leans forward, one hand on either side of my body, and bends his head over my right breast. His tongue peeks out and he very lightly flicks my nipple.
I groan.
I try to hold it back, I attempt to make sure he doesn’t see how he’s affecting me, but it’s impossible. The control he has over me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s demanding but relaxed. He knows how to work me up and bring me back down. He knows exactly what I need, only to steal it away, which just causes my need to orgasm to build. To consume me until all responsible and coherent thoughts are thrown out the window.
With flicks of his tongue, he laps at my nipples, each stroke more maddening than the last, because he’s not giving me the pressure I desire. Only instances of it, and I don’t want instances. I want it all.
He turns on the wand and it vibrates against my pulsing clit, filling the room with a buzzing sound. I squirm to try to separate my legs, to let the vibrations dive deeper, but the belt he wrapped around my legs is unforgiving, keeping me in place.
“God,” I moan, just as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth—hard. “Oh fuck,” I say as I move against him, my back arching toward his mouth.
He switches off the vibrator.
“Fuck . . . you,” I groan, pushing at him, but he stays put, only lifting his head.
“Say it.”
“No,” I respond.