Page 28 of The Pucking Grump

His fingers are slipping down my body now, going lower with each second. He brushes against my clitoris, and I feel a shudder run through me.

“I should punish you,” he says, before brushing past my clit again, this time, in a decidedly hard movement that gives no concern for how sensitive the bundle of nerves is.

I tear my mouth from his and look at the roiling storms in his eyes, more surprised than anything. Punish isn’t a word that I usually associate with sexual pleasure.

“What?”

“That fucking bikini.” Another brush against my clit that sends my toes into a state of permanent flexure. “Watching you there, all wet and drippy. You were probably dripping down here too.” He plunges his fingers into me, no warning of any sort. “Probably hoping I’d fuck you.”

I scream, my body arching backward. Something about his roughness, the fact that he seems like he wants to inflict a hint of pain along with whatever pleasure he’s offering, arouses me. Makes me wonder just how much he’s willing to punish me.

His fingers wrap around my neck again, pulling back, so my eyes meet his.

“Admit it.”

I swallow. My mouth is somewhat dry. His tone is hard, kind of like the way it was our first night at the cabin. This time, though, I have a feeling that there’s more at stake.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I croak when I can. “I just . . .”

His fingers tighten momentarily at my neck, and my eyes roll to the back of my head at how good that feels. “Tell me how fucking soaked you were.”

I gulp, newly understanding what this is about. Power. Blake might not hate me, but he detests the power I have over him. Probably also hates the fact that he’s now confessed, twice, to how much he wants me. He’s trying to rebalance the scales by getting me to do the same.

A streak of stubbornness kicks in, and I shake my head. “I wasn’t,” I lie, trying to ignore the memory of fluid dripping between my thighs.

He thrusts his fingers deeper, one sharp motion that sends a mixture of pleasure and need through me.

I moan, pushing myself up against him. “Don’t stop,” I demand, even if what I really want to say is don’t stop touching me that way. Blake’s roughness adds a new dimension to what I thought was possible to feel, and I want more.

But he curls his fingers and pulls out of me.

“You’re lying.” His other hand is still wrapped around my throat, and he tightens it once more. “Admit how bad you wanted me.”

I stare at him. His eyes are black whirlpools. It dawns on me that he’s going to withdraw his touch if I don’t obey him.

Elation builds within me, spreading through my body until my arms and legs are covered with goosebumps. I would rather die than admit it to him, but this, being tortured to confess embarrassing things, is a wet dream.

I swallow again. “I did want you.”

“Good girl,” he growls. His fingers part my folds and delve in, a reward for my obedience. I barely have time to savor the pleasure of his entry before he starts to move, mercilessly thrusting in and out, causing small bursts of bliss in parts of my body I didn’t even know existed.

I have never climaxed from fingering before, but my pleasure is multiplying by the second, pushing me closer to that cliff. My walls grip Blake, and I know I’m about to come when he pulls himself out again.

I let out a yell of frustration. “No, Blake, please . . .”

His eyes glimmer with mischief. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to come.”

Is he leveraging my satisfaction based on how well I stroke his ego? “You must be kidding.”

Both hands wrap around my waist, grinding me against him. “I want to hear that these past four days have been as torturous for you as they have been for me. If you do well enough, I’ll give you your orgasm. If you do really well, I’ll let you suck me off.”

My stomach contracts. I’ll let you suck me off. The thought of getting between his legs and pleasuring him with my mouth makes me salivate.

He has somehow managed to make me feel like him getting a blowjob would be a favor to me. And I’m buying it.

This is too much. He’s too much.

I can almost feel my pussy quivering, begging for him to put his fingers back in there. But then the stubborn streak is back, keeping me from letting him in that easily.

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