My gaze had been unfocused as I started to lose myself, but his words had it sharpening again. I grinned as I stared into his black eyes, my voice coming out as a wheeze because of the pressure on my windpipe. “Yeah, but you liked it.”
He growled, and the modulator turned it animalistic, making it sound like a goddamn werewolf had just stalked into my room.
His fingers disappeared from my sex, and the flood of returning blood had my head spinning and spine bowing as I got closer to the edge, but then he pushed my hand off the vibrator’s handle and pulled it out of me. I had just enough time to whimper at its loss before he shoved me backward. I bounced on the bed, and then he was on me, swinging a leg over my waist as he pulled his shirt off. He yanked me up by my arms, shoved the shirt under my head and neck, and then tugged his zipper down, freeing his cock.
I reached for it hungrily, but he pushed my hands aside and grabbed the lube I’d left discarded on my comforter. A splash of it landed in the middle of my chest, all the warning I had before he grabbed my hands and put them on my breasts.
“Press them together,” he ordered. “Your first present is that necklace you’ve been begging me to get you.”
I shoved my breasts in tight and smirked up at him. “I see you’ve been reading my comments.”
He huffed out what might have been a strangled laugh – the modulator made it hard to tell – and thrust straight into my cleavage.
I craned my head up and managed to lick his frenulum before he grabbed my hair and pulled me away, holding me against the bed.
“What was it you said yesterday?” he asked. “This isn’t for you?”
“It feels a little like it’s for me,” I shot back.
Another strangled laugh was quickly cut off by a groan as he thrust into me again, starting a steady rhythm. The bed squeaked beneath us. Our heavy breathing echoed through the room, and the smell of sex filled my nose.
If he was trying to punish me, he was failing. I was all for the feel of his hot, smooth, lube-slicked cock shoving between my breasts as he used me to find his release. And really, letting him paint a pearl necklace over my throat was the least I could do after stabbing him. Maybe I could find more ways to piss him off and see just how many of my comments he’d read.
“Your tits are perfect,” he said, letting go of my hair to brace both hands on the bed and piston his hips back and forth, picking up speed.
Your whole body is perfect, I wanted to say, but I was too mesmerized by the sight of him looming over me, abs contracting, biceps straining as he held himself aloft. I pushed my breasts together even tighter, imagining it was my pussy he was slamming into. His monstrous cock would probably hit my cervix with every thrust – lucky me.
I lifted my gaze from his straining pecks to see him staring straight down at me, watching as he fucked my tits. His breathing hitched, and his cock swelled with a fresh infusion of blood. I felt his balls lift off my skin as they started to tighten up, and the sight of what he was doing to me, the feel of it, was so hot I had to squeeze my legs together to ease my unsatisfied need.
“I want to feel you come,” I said, unable to keep my mouth shut any longer. “I want to feel you brand my throat where your hand just was, marking me.”
“As mine,” he growled.
It wasn’t a question, but I answered him anyway. “Yes. Yours.”
“Fuck, Aly.”
With one last thrust, he was coming, hot seed splashing over my skin, dick pulsing between my tits, body trembling above me as he sucked in one breath after another, his hips changing rhythm as he lost himself to pleasure.
He shuddered and went still when he was done, bowing over me, and even though I hadn’t done anything but hold my tits together for him, I felt a triumphant little thrill that he’d come so hard he needed a minute to regroup.
“My turn?” I asked, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.
His answering laugh was evil, and at first, I thought it was because of the modulator, but soon, I learned better.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
“Only good girls get fucked, Aly, and from the way you’ve been cursing my name for the past five minutes, I think we’ve established that you aren’t one.”
More vitriol spewed from my mouth as he braced his forearm across my shoulder blades and held me in place while he slowly started thrusting into me again. With my godforsaken vibrator instead of his cock.
It felt like he’d been doing this for an hour, though it had probably been closer to ten minutes. Over and over again, he’d fed the vibrator into me, holding it steady against my clit until stars danced across my vision, only to pull it out again, denying me the orgasm that needed to happen at this point, or I swore I would die from frustration.
“Please,” I begged.
“You can always tell me to stop,” he said.
No, I couldn’t. Because then he would win. He’d had almost all the power in our dynamic from the start, and I couldn’t bring myself to give him any more by tapping out. My stubborn streak was too big for that, and it would probably be the death of me.
He eased the vibrator out again just as I was getting close, and a sob slipped through my lips before I could stop it. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. Fuck him. And fuck me too. Past me, specifically, who’d read about edging and thought it sounded fun.
It wasn’t fun. It was torture.
I thrashed beneath him as he pulled the vibrator out, leaving my pussy clenching on empty air. How did he think this was hot? I was a red, sweaty mess right now, hair plastered to my forehead, tears streaking from the corners of my eyes, but I knew he was into it because he was rock hard again, his pants still unbuttoned, showing off his picture-perfect cock. That he wouldn’t give me. Or even let me touch. Every time I reached for it, he slapped my hands away and went back to tormenting me. The man must have been a goddamn sadist to be having so much fun.
I shook my head from side to side. “I need to, I need to,” I repeated.
“Shhh,” he said, brushing the hair from my face. “I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”
Another sob shook my body. I’d never look at arousal the same after this. He was shifting my entire worldview.
“Brace yourself,” he said, all the warning I had before he rammed the sex toy home.
My back arched off the bed, and his hand landed on my throat again, just beneath my jaw, keeping my head tilted away from him as something warm and wet enveloped one of my nipples.
Had he taken his mask off?
His tongue laved at my nipple just as the vibrating little nub hit my clit, and if he didn’t stop soon, there was nothing that would prevent me from coming this time. I could feel it building like a tidal wave just offshore, gaining momentum as it raced into the shallows, ready to slam through me with the same destructive force as a late-season cyclone.
He rotated the vibrator, simulating the act of thrusting, rubbing the nub over and around my clit. Spots danced at the edge of my vision, crowded close because of how tight he held my throat.
Shit, he was cutting off my airway.
His mouth latched onto my nipple, and he sucked, hard, fingers popping off my neck. I dragged in a single breath before he tightened his grip again. Oh, no. How was the pleasure still building? I couldn’t do this. It was too much. My entire body felt like one raw, pulsing nerve, and if he pushed me any higher, I’d have brain damage; I just knew it.
His mouth left my breast, and I cried out in desperation.
“Let go, Aly,” he rumbled. “I’ll catch you when you fall.”