Page 24 of Dirty Ink
I was rewarded with him burying his face into my wetness. I moaned as I tilted my hips up to meet his tongue swirling over my clit.
“Oh, perfect girl. You’re so needy,” he muttered as he pushed a finger inside me. “So responsive.”
He curled that finger around and pressed at that delicious spot inside me. My hips bucked as I felt my orgasm rushing up to me.
“God, yes, there,” I moaned as he worked me right to the—
He pulled away, his finger coming out of my pussy with a wet sound.
“No,” I whined.
I was so close. So fucking close. One touch. One lick. That’s all I needed.
“I need you…” I groaned, as my legs shook. “Mason, I’m so close.”
He lifted a wry eyebrow.
“Mason, please,” I gasped, my head hitting hard against the wall as I shook my head violently from side to side. I clenched my core, ground my hips at the air, trying to push myself over. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I needed him. Bastard.
“What did I say, Rachel?”
His eyes glittered with lust, with raw power, his hot breath like torture on my sensitive thighs. This giant tattooed Irishman might be kneeling before me, but I was completely under his control.
“Don’t make me repeat my question.”
“I-I,” I sucked in a breath as our gazes locked. I swear his eyes darkened, “am to just watch.”
“And?”
“And…” I squirmed before freezing, “I am not to move.”
His eyes darkened. “And?”
I felt like crying. “I’m not to come.”
"And what are you trying to do?”
Fuck.
“Come,” I whispered.
“So what does that make you?”
“What?”
“What. Does. That. Make. You?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “A… a naughty girl?”
“A very naughty girl. A very bad girl.” The bastard grinned at me. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
I knew…
He wasn’t finished torturing me.
He pushed his face into my cunt, alternating between slow swirls with the tip of his tongue and languid flat-tongued licks. He pushed two fingers into me, working my g-spot with smooth strokes. It was too fucking slow. It was fucking not enough.
“Please,” I moaned, I begged, “fuck me.”
