Page 127 of Cruel When He Smiles
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not yet.”
He groans, his head falling back, but he doesn’t fight me when I keep stretching him, pushing him to the edge so slowly it’s almost cruel. His nails dig into my skin, his legs trembling as he tries to grind down, desperate for more.
“You break so beautifully for me. I almost don’t want to put you back together,” I groan when he clenches around my fingers. “You like this, don’t you?”
He nods, but I don’t let that slide.
“Use your words, Pup,” I say, dragging my fingers out before pressing them back in slowly.
“Yes,” he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like it. Please—”
He doesn’t finish, just lets out a shuddering moan as I work him open more, taking my time, watching every fucking reaction.
“Please,” he gasps again, his voice wrecked. “I’m ready.”
I hum, brushing my lips over his cheek. “Think so?”
“Yes,” he snaps, his frustration making me grin. “I want you.”
I groan, pressing my forehead to his for a second, trying to get a grip on myself.
I pull my fingers out, slicking myself up before positioning myself at his hole. But I don’t push in right away. Instead, I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Eyes on me, Nathaniel.”
His pupils are blown wide. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, breath coming in unsteady gasps as he stares up at me. “Good,” I murmur, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Keep ‘em right there.”
Green eyes lock onto mine with trembling lashes and parted lips like he’s already halfway to falling apart. It makes a different emotion curl up tight in my chest, and it’s not just lust or possession.
“Deep breath, baby,” I say, and then I push in.
He gasps as I breach him, that perfect heat swallowing me inch by fucking inch. His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out except this shattered little whimper that kills me. I move slowly, stretching him around me, watching every twitch of his brow, every gasp that slips from his throat.
“You feel like heaven,” I whisper, my hips rolling until I’m buried to the hilt, surrounded by his heat, his body squeezing me so fucking tight it steals my breath.
“L-Liam—”
“I know,” I breathe, sliding my hand to his chest, feeling the way his heart hammers beneath my palm. “I know, Pup. Just breathe for me and hold my eyes.”
I stay still for a second, letting him adjust, letting him feel it.
Me.
Us.
The weight of it.
The intimacy.
The fact that he let me in this far, let me have him like this without begging, without bratting, without resistance.
And then I move.
A slow, grinding pull back, followed by a gentle thrust that makes him whimper into the side of my neck. He’s tight, clenching around me like his body doesn’t want to let me go, and fuck—my control almost breaks right there.
“I f-feel you…” he stammers, blinking hard, and the vulnerability in his eyes guts me, “I feel you everywhere.”
I duck my head and kiss him softly. Full of heat and reverence. My hips move slowly, dragging in and out of him, and his legs tighten around me.
I roll my hips just right, watching the way he gasps, the way he winces when his back arches off the bed. “You feel so goddamn good; it’s like your body’s wired to make me beg.”
