Page 79 of Switching Graves

He doesn’t stop, even as I squirm against the seat and whimper into the palm I’ve slapped over my mouth. I can’t seem to sit still as he works his fingers inside of me, his tongue tracing circles around the exact area that sends needles up my spine and turns my legs into jelly.

Navy eyes flick up, framed perfectly between my trembling thighs. When he sees the expression in my face, one brow lifts as he flattens his tongue and runs it across my entire, swollen pussy. I cry out, my hips curling toward his mouth on their own accord as he pulls away and reveals that cocky smirk I’ve grown to hate.

Mercifully, his fingers still slide in and out of me as he asks, “Are you already going to come for me, Little Nightmare?”

My chest heaves, breath flying out of my mouth in hot bursts as I try to focus my mind on what he’s asking and not the way his fingers are working or the building sensation they’re creating. I want to give every piece of myself over to that feeling.

Digging the heels of my palms into the soft leather, I take a deep breath.

“Please,” I manage to hiss out in my exhale.

He chuckles, bowing his head back to my center so the vibration of his laugh reverberates against my skin, and I nearly lose it.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he muses, tracing his fingers along all the sensitive parts of me before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them dry. “I’ve never had anything like it before.”

I want to ask if he thinks that’s a good thing but just as I open my mouth to speak, his tongue thrusts inside of me without warning, and I see stars.

Pulling back, he pushes his fingers inside of me and quickens their pace while his mouth suckles and swipes around my clit, creating a tornado of sensations. My hands release the leather and grab at his hair as the terror over him stopping before this beautiful feeling blossoms into a full-blown orgasm takes over. My nails scrape against his scalp and down his neck as he increases his rhythm just enough for me to fall completely over the edge and into a weightless, sensational oblivion.

It’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced, practically knocking the air from my lungs as ecstasy takes over and soothes my entire being.

Not before I cry out, though. Just as loudly and dramatically as he predicted. I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed right now, especially when he’s looking at me with smug eyes and a broad smile, like he’s proud of what we’ve just accomplished.

He shifts away from me to stand, and all I can do is watch him in wonder as my breaths calm back down. His erection is fighting angrily against the tight material of his briefs, but he doesn’t reach to free it. Instead, he begins unbuttoning his shirt again, only getting halfway before he loses patience and tugsit over his head. I thought I had a decent view of his carved out chest before, but with his shoulders and arms exposed, he resembles something closer to a god than a man.

Tattoos snake down his biceps and over his chest. It’s too dark for me to make out exactly what they are, but it appears to be waves running across his body and a large beetle-looking-thing sitting on his chest.

I don’t have a lot of time to ogle before he’s stepping back in front of me, wrapping his fingers around the base of my crumpled sweatshirt, and pulling it over my head like I’m a child. It had ridden all the way up to the base of my bra, exposing my less-than-flat belly to him.

“Just one time,” he reminds me. “Then, we’ll return to normal.”

I have a feeling he’s telling himself more than me.

“One time,” I confirm anyway, because I may need the reminder as well.

With one singular nod, he points to the back of the couch. “Hold on to that.”

I frown, glancing at the couch, and then back at him. “What?”

“I said,” he drawls, grabbing my wrist to drag me onto the couch and gently set my palm on the spot he pointed to before. “Hold on to this. Both hands.”

When I stare at him for too long, he sighs and puts his hands on his hips.

“New rule: You’re going to do what I tell you without question. Each time you disobey me will draw out your orgasm another minute.” Pointing to the couch again, he barks out, “Now, get your hands on there and spread your knees apart.”

This time, I do what he says without question, fighting against the urge to be a brat and disobey him just to see if he’ll follow through.

“Good.” Walking up behind me, he finally slides his briefs down his legs and slowly begins stroking his length, keeping his gaze trained on my very exposed ass.

“I have this fear that once I get a taste of you, the craving will never subside. You’re an addiction I can’t seem to kick. But you’re going to make torturing you so delicious.”

“I’m doing what you asked,” I whine. The urge to sway my hips and create some friction between my legs builds, but I fight to stay still.

“Yes, but your obedience never lasts very long, does it?”

Raze reaches forward with his free hand, gently wrapping it around my hip to tug me backward, against his groin. He holds us there, with his erection cradled in my ass crack for a few seconds and I can tell by the weight of it there, this is going to hurt.

He hisses out a breath that tells me he’s anticipating this just as much as I am. I want to rush him along—to ask what the hell he’s waiting for—but I know that doing so will only prove him correct, and then he’ll draw it out even worse. Instead, I hang my head between my shoulders and take a deep breath, focusing intently on how amazing it feels at the spot where our bodies meet.

---