Page 25 of Tell Me Something True

It was need.

And it was growing stronger with each barely-there touch. With each softly-spoken word.

“I hate it,” he continued. “But that’s not going to stop me from doing it.” He lifted his hand higher, holding his wet forefinger up, his other fingers still clenching her belt. “Open.”

She blinked down at his finger. It surprised her, this domineering side of him.

Surprised her even more when she licked her lips, opened her mouth, then leaned down and wrapped her lips around the tip of his finger. Moaned at the taste of herself on his skin.

He didn’t move. “Deeper.”

She slid her mouth down past his first knuckle. Then his second.

“Deeper.”

She went farther, until her lips were at the base of his finger.

“Suck,” he said, low and gritty.

She did, hard and long, her cheeks hollowing, her gaze on his. Then she moved, pulling back until she held the tip of his finger lightly between her teeth. Laved it with her tongue, licking it clean before lowering her head to take it deep again.

“Stop.”

She did, and he slowly withdrew his finger, then traced her parted lips before dragging his wet finger down her throat.

“Did you wish it was my cock you were sucking?” he asked, back to that carefully controlled tone as he skimmed his finger down between her breasts.

He kept his fingertip there, pressed between her breasts, right where her heartbeat was thundering.

And then, he took his touch away.

“Answer me.”

She worked moisture back into her mouth. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” He lightly traced his damp finger around her right nipple. She’d learned her lesson and didn’t move. But her pulse skittered. Her breathing grew ragged. “Say it.”

Was this a trick? She wasn’t sure.

She didn’t want to do or say anything that would have him stopping again.

He’d made the rules.

And she liked following them.

“Are you asking me to?”

He lightly scraped his nail against her nipple, and it was all she had in her not to squirm. “I’m telling you to.”

“I wished it was your cock I was sucking,” she whispered.

He made that humming sound again, his finger dragging down the bumps of her ribcage, that one single fingertip wreaking havoc within her body. “When you say that, it makes me want to wrap your hair around my fist, yank your head back, and fuck your mouth.”

She blinked at the contrast between his cool tone and heated words. Another aspect to his game. One she wasn’t familiar with.

One she wasn’t sure how to handle.

She wanted to tell him he could absolutely do that. He could fuck her mouth and any other part of her he wanted. Anything to break past his calm, controlled wall. But he hadn’t asked her a question. Hadn’t demanded she speak.

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