Page 27 of Tell Me Something True

And the bastard grabbed her by the waist, his thumbs pressing against her hipbones, and held her still.

“Beg me,” he repeated. “Or take it.”

The old her would have begged. She would have cried and pleaded and done whatever it took to get him to give her what she needed.

But the new her had given him enough.

It was time he gave her something in return.

She lowered her center inch by inch so that she hovered just above his mouth.

Beg me. Or take it.

She would take it.

Chapter 5

Beneath her, Miles stilled, his fingers tightening on her waist. He made an appreciative, hungry sound.

And then he gave her slit a long, slow swipe.

It was the most he’d given her all night.

But it still wasn’t enough.

And she knew he was holding back on purpose.

Her arms trembled with the effort it took to stay upright. Her legs shook. Pleasure was like a fire licking along her skin, hot and moving fast, burning and burning and burning, but not consuming.

He was back to those barely there flicks of his tongue. The too-soft, teasing touches of his lips. She wanted to sob. To howl in frustration. She wanted to take what was left of her torn pride and shredded dignity, wrap them around her like a cloak and walk out with her head held high.

But mostly, she wanted to come.

And while she could absolutely handle that on her own, she was starved for the touch of another person.

No. Not just another person.

She was starved for Miles’s touch.

And the longer he withheld it, the more she wanted it.

He turned his head and gently, gently bit her inner thigh.

She gasped. “Miles…”

He blew a stream of warm air on her pussy. “You know what you need to do.”

She did.

But she was terrified of letting herself go that far. Of proving to him exactly how much she wanted him. But her need was stronger—or at least more immediate—than those fears.

She sank down slowly, waiting for him to stop her, half-hoping he would but knowing he wouldn’t, until her core was pressed against his face.

“There you go.” His voice vibrated against her pussy and she squeezed her inner thighs together to try and capture that sensation. To prolong it.

To encourage more of it.

When he kept quiet, when his tongue stayed in his mouth, she moved, just a little, rolling her hips forward so that the tip of his nose rubbed her clit. The sharp prickle of his whiskers abraded her inner thighs.

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