“What if I want you to… participate?”
“Do what you did before. Did it help?”
“Yeah… but only for a minute.”
“Try again,” I say.
She whimpers, looking at me, squinting without her glasses. “But…”
“I’m not claiming you tonight. I’m not having it used against me when this lunar event is over.”
“I won’t do that.”
“You say that now because you’re in a fake heat, Bailey. I can’t trust what you’re saying.”
“Fake?”
“You can’t go into a real heat if you’re not already claimed. It’s just the moon…”
“I’m okay if we blame the moon…”
“You’re saying that now, Bay, but I’m not risking it.”
“Jason,” she whines.
I smile. Fuck, this feels good.
I think she misreads my smile because her forehead crinkles.
She tries to hold still but she can’t. She’s rocking again. And whimpering. She’s about ready to beg me to fuck her. But I know she’s just moon drunk. She’s not thinking clearly.
She gives me a look of hurt before burying her face in my neck again.
“Of course I want to claim you. I’m dying to fucking claim you, but I’m not doing it tonight. Go ahead, rub against me. Get yourself there again.”
She digs her nails into my scalp, holding my hair as she rocks some more against my cock.
“You’re frustrating me,” she complains.
I groan with how good it feels.
And my groan only makes her wetter.
“I know.”
As soon as I know she’s of sound mind asking for this, it’ll begame on.
She rocks some more, still hiding her face, whimpering either in frustration or sensation, I’m not sure at this point.
She mutters a string of cusses and now she’s coming again, shaking as she continues rocking against me, until she goes completely limp, sprawled on me.
“That was so m-mean, Jason,” she rasps.
Her heart pounds against both our chests as she catches her breath, then whimpers again.
“Was trying to be the opposite of mean,” I say.
She doesn’t answer.