Page 10 of All We Want

The room is thick with tension as I hold Ronan's unwavering gaze, an unexpected surge of empowerment coursing through me. The dim light casts shadows that dance across my skin, and the subtle sounds of his approval spur me on.

His eyes, dark with desire, trace the contours of my form, and the knowledge that I hold a certain sway over this dangerous man ignites a spark of defiance beneath the surface of my compliance.

"Give me a better show, Scarlette," he commands, his voice low and demanding.

Chapter 8

Scarlette

Ronan's gaze lingers, and a predatory smile plays on his lips. "Now, use ya pretty fingers. Show me how ya pleasure yourself, binneas." The challenge in his words stirs a conflicting mix of arousal and resistance, but the weight of his gaze and the gun in his hand compels me to comply.

With a measured deliberateness, my fingers trace a slow, tortuous path along the heated skin of my thighs. The room feels like a pressure cooker, the intensity of Ronan's stare creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

As my fingertips approach the apex of my inner thighs, a shiver courses through me. I finally allow my fingers to touch my pussy, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through my senses. Ronan's eyes narrow, an unspoken satisfaction evident in his gaze as he watches my every move.

The subtle sounds of my own pleasure mix with the charged atmosphere, creating soft music that echoes through the confined space.

Ronan's voice, low and commanding, breaks the silence. "That's it, Scarlette. Show me how ya enjoy it. No holdin’ back, binneas."

I have never been as turned on as I am at this moment. My arousal creates a throbbing beat deep inside me, my clit already aching to be touched. It wouldn’t take long to reach my climax.

The movement of my fingers against myself is deliberate and teasing. With a slow, rhythmic motion, I trace the contours of my pussy, savoring the warmth and wetness that my touch elicits. My fingertips move in languid circles, occasionally dipping inside before moving back up to my clit.

Ronan's voice cuts through the air, disrupting the rhythm of my fingers. "But don't touch ya clit, binneas. Not yet."

A soft moan slips from my lips as Ronan throws down the challenge. My fingers, moving slow and seductive, tease the edges of my pussy, avoiding the one spot that aches the most. The denial makes every touch more intense, a sweet torture building a desperate need for more.

The room turns electric, a mix of my needy moans and the subtle creaks of the leather chair as my hips start to rock creating a symphony of lust. Ronan's eyes stay locked on me, his predatory grin revealing he enjoys every moment of this show he's conducting.

My body rebels, hips arching for a direct touch, but the weight of Ronan's gaze. The anticipation builds, the teasing pushing me to the edge of pleasure.

Just when I'm on the brink, Ronan's voice, cool and commanding, cuts through the air. "Stop, binneas."

My fingers freeze mid-motion, and I whimper in frustration as the climax withdraws, leaving me hanging on the precipice. Ronan's gaze holds me captive, the intensity of his stare amplifying the unfulfilled ache.

"Ya look desperate, Scarlette," he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, start again. But remember, no touchin' ya clit."

With a blend of frustration and anticipation, I resume the movement of my fingers. Finding my rhythm again, tracing the soft folds of my pussy with renewed urgency. My body throbs with tension as Ronan watches, his satisfaction evident in the way his predatory smile deepens.

Ronan's voice, a low murmur, is like silk brushing over my already sensitive skin. "Ya sound good, binneas, but I wan’ more. I wanna hear ya desperate, beggin' for release. Show me how badly ya need it."

A mixture of arousal and vulnerability floods through me. The rhythm of my fingers falters for a moment, the realization sinking in. Ronan's desire isn't satisfied with mere moans; he craves the raw, unfiltered need that spills from the depths of desperation.

Swallowing hard, I resume the movements, my fingers tracing the path of my pussy. The room becomes a stage for the sounds of my desperation, each movement a plea for release. Moans turn into desperate whispers, and I find myself on the verge of uttering the words he demands.

Ronan's voice, dark and velvety, echoes. "I wanna hear ya, Scarlette. I wanna hear how desperate ya can be. Beg for it."

The intensity in his command makes me even more aware of the pulsing warmth inside of me, and I feel the building pleasure mingled with a growing need for release. I let out a needy whimper as my movements become more erratic, more desperate. My fingers slide and tease at the wetness of my pussy.

"Please," I murmur, my voice carrying the weight of longing. "Please, Ronan."

The room hangs in suspense, his predatory gaze locking onto mine. His satisfaction is palpable as I give in to the plea, the desperation in my voice echoing through the confines of the room.

"More," he demands, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Beg for it like ya mean it."

Driven by a potent mixture of arousal and submission, I let the desperation creep into my voice. "Ronan, please, I need it. I need to... cum."

His predatory smile widens, and he leans back, enjoying the show. "That's it, cailín maith. Beg for da pleasure ya crave. Make me believe how much ya want it."

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