The air stirs with electricity. Her face tilts, and something indefinable shifts between us.
A slight nod, and her soft hands slide from my legs and fall to her sides.
It’s time for her to discover the other, less gentle parts of me.
“Drop the blanket. I want to see you.” Power roars through me as she follows my instructions and the fuzzy red cotton falls around her. It’s been so long, and I’m as greedy as she was for that orgasm.
She stares up at me, melting my heart. I nod my encouragement.
She takes a deep, stuttered breath, leans forward, and flicks her tongue over the tip. That small lick is like a match to flame, igniting my blood.
She sits perfectly still. Down on her knees. Ready and waiting for my every command.
In my element for the first time since I’ve met her, I welcome it like a long-lost lover and twine my fingers in her hair. “Swirl your tongue around the head.”
She studies my cock, pensive, shifting on the floor, like she’s trying to find a place where her nerves won’t get the best of her.
I harden my expression. “Sit. Still.”
She freezes, her chest rising and falling as her nipples peak.
She’s so responsive. How was I so blind to what Rissa told me for months? All that time wasted.
I narrow my gaze. “This isn’t about your comfort, girl. This is about pleasing me. Understand?”
Another sharp, uneven breath. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” I glance pointedly at my erection. “Don’t think. Just do as you’re told.”
She looks at my cock the way someone looks over the edge of a cliff before diving into the water below. The continued need for patience is excruciating, but it’s also hot as hell, and I am loving every minute of her unease.
Finally, she leans forward, her breasts swaying slightly with the movement. Her nipples brush my calves. I open my legs wider.
She takes a perfunctory swipe.
Laughter rumbles in my chest, but I push it back, keeping my expression stern. “Is that your best effort to please me? Because you’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”
Her eyes flash with a hint of anger, a spark of agitation. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries again. Another nervous lick that reminds me of a scared puppy, uncertain if it faces friend or foe.
I steady myself, working past my worry about scaring her to concentrate on what my gut is screaming. I move with a swiftness that brings fear rushing across her features. Before she can evade, I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and hold. “I believe I told you to stay still.”
Pupils dilating, she covers my hand with hers.
And now the true test begins.
I lower my voice. “Do you have a problem with cock sucking?”
She shakes her head. “But I—”
“Enough,” I say, injecting coldness into my tone. “I’ve seen you lick an ice cream cone. I expect the same enthusiasm.”
“Why are you being mean?” she implores.
“Why aren’t you doing as you’re told?” I counter.
Her breathing quickens. I roll her nipple, squeezing hard enough to cause a distinct bite of pain.
She blinks rapidly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”