Page 193 of Tell Me Something True

This time, she was quiet in protest. To prove that while he may be a king over certain domains—including her body—she still had free will. She still had some semblance of control.

She still had her pride.

Lips twitching, as if her silent show of independence amused him to no end, he went back to those circles around her belly button. “Tabitha, I need to hear you say you understand or else I can’t keep going.”

She blinked, then blurted out a quick, soft, and emphatic, “Yes.” Shut her eyes on how desperate she sounded.

Free will, control, and her pride had nothing on the need spiraling through her.

His fault. Again. For touching her this way. For looking the way he did, all golden skin over hard muscle. For his cock once again hardening against her thigh. For being this dirty and commanding and making her like both so much.

Making her want even more.

Making her wonder how much dirtier he could get.

She licked her lips. Tasted him there and licked them again. “I understand.”

He grinned, so obviously pleased and proud, and she squirmed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

And he collected the last of his cum that he hadn’t spread over her skin onto the tips of his pointer and middle fingers, then slid them into her pussy, mixing with her own wetness.

She sincerely hoped that had been a rhetorical question, because the only affirmation she could give was the low, raw moan that sprang from her throat.

He repeated that pattern, withdrawing to gather more cum, then coating the inside of her pussy with the remains of his release. When there was no more to collect, he worked her with long, leisurely strokes.

“You were such a good girl,” he murmured, his words a praise, his actions her prize as he continued pumping his fingers inside her, “taking me so deep. Trusting me to make it good for you. But you took more than you were supposed to after I told you not to.” His strokes slowed and he withdrew his hand so that the tips of his fingers barely brushed her opening. “So now you’re going to lie still while I take what I want. No squirming. No talking, unless it’s to beg me to stop. Understand?”

Having learned her lesson a moment ago, she didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

Whatever he wanted, whatever she had to do in order for him to keep going, to take his fill, the answer was yes, yes, yes.

She couldn’t imagine wanting him to stop.

Especially when he shoved those fingers back up her pussy. “You’re so wet,” he grunted as he quickened his strokes. Went deeper. “So tight.”

Keeping still when lust was spinning into an ever-tightening spiral inside her, when every instinct she had screamed at her to move—to squirm and undulate against his hand, to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples, to do anything and everything she could to get off, now, right now—was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

Luckily, thanks to Miles’s talented fingers and her own body’s amped up state, the moment he curled his fingers inside her while pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, her orgasm flowed through her, long and lush. Softer, milder than the one she’d given herself had been, but no less intense.

And just as wonderful.

More so even. Because Miles was the one who’d given it to her.

His strokes slowed. Soothed now, instead of enticed, before he removed his fingers. Leaning forward, he placed a soft, quick kiss on her mouth. “That is how you take the edge off.”

Still catching her breath, all she could do was nod.

Lesson learned.

Although, to be honest, it was one lesson she wouldn’t mind repeating.

Endlessly.

One side of Miles’s mouth lifted, his smirk firmly back in place.

The breath she still hadn’t fully recovered caught.

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