Page 25 of Riptide

My grip tightens around his throat—not hard, not enough to take away his air, but enough to let him feel the weight of my hand, the control that’s ready to snap. His chest expands, inhaling, mouth open, eyes fixed on me. “Try again. Slower this time. Beg me like you mean it, and maybe I’ll give you what that cocky mouth of yours is asking for.”

His nostrils flare, that brat inside him wanting to play with me. Oh, he fucking loves this. So do I.

My thumb drags along the column of his throat before I release him, my hand sliding lower, down his chest, over his stomach, skimming the waistband of his boxers but he still doesn’t respond.

“You want my attention, yes?” I lean closer to him, my lips brushing against his cheek, never fully giving him my mouth again.

Finn makes a sound, half laugh, half groan. “I want your fucking hands on me. Your mouth. Every-fucking-thing.”

I let them slip lower, palming him over the fabric.

And then I stop.

Finn whines, his hips bucking up, chasing the friction I just ripped away from him.

I grin against his skin. “That wasn’t aplease. Come on, you can do better than that.”

His chest rises and falls too fast, his frustration mingling with arousal. “Oh, fuck you,” he bites out.

I chuckle, biting down on his throat, harder this time, leaving a mark. “That’s the plan.” Or at least an orgasm each if nothing else from tonight. There weren’t rules set in the end, but I’m already enjoying the feel of him.

Not wanting to wait for him, I strip us both, discarding our underwear. God, even his cock is beautiful. Jutting out in front of him proudly. It’s long, perfectly straight, with veins running up the shaft. Mouthwatering.

His thighs tremble, taking breaths in uneven gasps as I hold him down, teasing him with my tongue over the crown as I get my first taste. He tastes like the clean edge of control slipping, like a man unraveling one pulse at a time. The kind of taste that lingers on your tongue long after your mouth is empty. The kind that turns hunger into something insistent.

His body is already betraying him, his cock twitching, leaking as I lap it up again, his hips lifting before I even give him permission to move. Gripping them, I slam him back down. “Stay still,” I demand against his thigh, my breath hot over his skin.

Finn lets out a frustrated sound, his head tipping back. “You’re killing me.”

I let my tongue flick over the tip of his length again, barely hard enough to satisfy. His whole body responds, a muffled “fuck” slipping from his lips, his fingers digging into the mattress like he’s trying with all his might to hold himself together.

He’s trying not to beg, but it’s too late. His body is doing all the begging for him, and it makes me so fucking hard. I use my free hand to relieve some of the pressure for myself.

“Jesus,” he says, looking down at my hand working my own cock. “You hard for me, Foxx?”

Feeling a pulse deep in my stomach, I groan, “So fucking hard.” I begin moving my mouth lower again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his length, and when I draw back, I wait until his eyes meet mine again.

“You gonna ask me nicely to suck your cock?” A command disguised as a question.

Finn whimpers a wrecked sound, his body so tense it’s almost shaking. His pride is hanging by a thread, like his impending orgasm. He wants to fight me on this, but he can’t. Not when I roll my hand down the length of him, gather the pre-cum leaking onto my fingers, and match my own strokes.

“Fuck—Foxx,” he gasps, his head pressing back against the sheets, his hips jerking up against my hold.

That’s not a please. I pull back. Barely touching him now.

Finn groans, his head snapping up, desperation coating his expression. His chest heaves, his cock throbbing to be touched, but his mouth still refuses to say what I want to hear. I tilt my head, watching him. “That’s not how you ask for something, Finn.”

His throat works, his jaw tics and, fuck, I love this back-and-forth. He hesitates and watches as my hand rhythmically moves up and down my length.

Then—finally, fuckingfinally—his jaw goes slack, and the words slip out, graveled and ready to be ruined. “Please.”

My cock twitches at the sound of it. I grip his face with one hand, tilting his head up to face me, forcing him to hold my gaze. “Say it again.”

His lips part on a trembling inhale, his hips shifting restlessly beneath me. “Please,” he begs. “Suck my cock and make me come.”

Satisfied, I exhale, my grip on his jaw softening just slightly as I lean in, letting myself go so I can focus on him. My breath brushes his lips, and I smirk, looking at the want bleeding from his gaze. I press my mouth to his ear, my hand finding and tightening around his cock.

“That’s a good boy.”

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