His expression doesn’t change, apart from the almost imperceptible raise of his eyebrows. Challenge accepted.
“Fine,” he answers. “Every time you make a move I like… I’ll make one too. But I decide what counts.”
Narrowing my eyes, I look him over—he’s fully dressed, stone-still, and tense. While I’m here, fully naked, sweat on my forehead from the vibrator that, for some reason, went straight to the high setting when I turned it on.
“A game of strip control?” I say, dragging the vibrator along my inner thigh trying to mimic some sort of foreplay. In reality, it’s a game of orgasm control. I cannot finish before it even starts.
“Call it what you want.” His voice drops even lower, if that is possible. “But you are already wet, and I don’t think you want to stop here.”
He’s not wrong. I don’t want to stop here. Honestly, I’m not even sure I can. The only way he’s not seeing me coming tonight is if he leaves in the next ten seconds. Make it eight.
I start again—this time pressing the toy over my clit on the low level, letting the hum eat into me. My other hand grazes over my nipple, pinching it lightly. I imagine Azrael’s teeth on it, biting, sucking, his to claim and to mark. He’s probably imagining the same thing, based on his reaction.
I moan softly, and as soon as the sound escapes my mouth, I lock eyes with Azrael, “Your turn.”
His mouth twitches and. “You wouldn’t fake it, would you?”
“I don’t fake pleasure,” I say. “It’s one of my four.”
“Four?”
“Four emotions that I can feel.”
He doesn’t believe me. Does he? He doesn…
Before I can finish my thought, he reaches up and removes his jacket, placing it carefully on the armrest.
I narrowed my eyes. “Still a lot of clothes left, Professor.”
He smirks. “That’s what a moan gets you. Keep going.”
My moan is worth more than his jacket, and he knows it. But judging by the bulge that is now very visible in his pants, I’ll soon get what I want.
I shift, spreading my thighs wider, offering him a full view of my pussy—which must be the right move considering the grunt that escapes him. I should feel exposed, but I just want him to see more, to see what is right in front of him without being allowed to touch.
I slide the toy lower, pressing it against my entrance just enough to make my legs tremble, but removing it just as soon as I feel the pressure building. I’m not ready to push it inside. The size is too big, almost painful. I close my eyes, trying to push it forward, but that inch I press in is enough to make me gasp for air.
If Azrael is half of what is showing through his pants, I can only imagine that the Professor’s cock will split me in half.
I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, trying to focus. I need to remain in control, and stop imagining future scenarios. Plus, he still has so much clothing to go. I’m too eager. When I open my eyes, he’s looking away.
“I thought you liked watching,” I say in half-pain, half-pleasure. “Isn’t that what you toldher?”
It seems Azrael enjoys seeing me in pain because he is now compulsively rubbing himself over his trousers. A muscle feathers in his jaw. I can’t help but wink at him.
I bend my knees, allowing him to see the wetness that was left behind by the vibrator, while my hand continues moving it over my clit and the other is rubbing my nipples. This positionis uncomfortable, but it’s exactly what I need to feel everything. This mix is too much. Just one move and…
Unable to stop, I let him know, “I’m almost done. Azrael—fuck.”
“Don’t,” he says, his voice rougher now.
“Azrael—”
“You come when I let you. Now be a good girl and let me see you.”
I could hate him. No, I do hate him. With passion. I needed to come so badly, I was inches away from it, and the fact I had to stop just because he said so makes me hate him. But I also want him to know my body is his to take. I just like that he told me no, and maybe I have a praise kink because I want to be called a good girl for doing what he says.
I obey, spreading my legs wider while slowing down the movement of my hand from between my thighs, allowing him an unobstructed view of myself.