Page 72 of The Fox

“No, no,kochanie.” He growls, dominance radiating off him and forcing every ounce of me to soften. “Good girls get to come. Are you a good girl?”

“Yes.” I whisper, my eyes meeting his, hips still trying to meet him.

“Are youmygood girl?”

I roll my head back and forth along the pillow, frenzy with need.

“Please, sir.” I whimper. I have never uttered the honorific, but this feels right, and Rhodes’ gaze confirms my thought.

“Prove it. Show me just how good you are.”

He pushes against my wrists once more, reminding me not to disobey, before returning to between my spread thighs. Gentle touches, almost tortuous in their path, traces of him creeping closer and closer to my center but never quite reaching it. His breath a mere tease along the lips of my sex, and then finally, his fingers spread me wide.

“Count.”

CHAPTER 49

Rhodes---Brink of Madness

She is glorious. I watch as she chases that high, wanting little more than to fall over that cliff. She’d get to…eventually. Her muscles strain against my forearms, her swollen pussy glistening. Her body is speaking without her having to say a word. There is a strength in her submission, a grace that I cannot explain in the way she yields herself to me. She is like the wildflowers bending in the summer breeze, the moans and soft mewls her siren song.

Her body is a temple, and I am here to worship this goddess laying before me.

My tongue finds her clit, flattening to broadly lick her, drawing another whimper as I then change my rhythm. I waited until she was just at the cusp of an orgasm before stopping, my grin resting against her thigh.

“One.” she sighs, her frustration evident.

I resume, my mouth attaching itself firmly against her clit and sucking hard. Her breathing changes, becoming faster, shallower. And over and over again, I plan to repeatedly bring her to the edge just to deny her the sheer exhilaration of falling.

“Two.”

“Three.”

I feel her hands weave themselves into my hair.Oh, kochanie.

“It is a shame you know,” I murmur against her pussy, listening as her excuses become caught in her throat. She knows she’s been caught.

“I’m sorry,” she starts.

“Tsk. And to think you were doing so well. Move your hands back, start over.”

I see the defeat reach her eyes, a fire lit within them.

“Please.” Gods, I love it when she begs. She does it so prettily.

“Hands, Amelia. I won’t repeat myself twice.”

She moves her hands back above her head, watching warily as I move off the bed, shucking the worn denim off to reveal my cock. Her eyes widen and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, but not once do her hands move.

Good girl.

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

I drape my body along hers, my erection finding her pussy and teasing it. A moan escapes her, my right hand running along the curve of her side, over the Medusa tattoo, before finally hooking under her knee and drawing her wider.

“Stay there,” I whisper, ghosting my hands inward, reaching the place she wants me most. “Tell me, would you be satisfied with my fingers, or does your cunt want to be filled?”

I shove one finger into her, her back bowing and those grey eyes drifting shut. I add a second, curling them until she starts to squirm. Her legs begin to drift together, and I push them wide open, fingers stilling and I smirk. Amelia Conte would be beautiful bound by my belt.

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