Page 182 of His To Erase
He thrusts in slowly, like he’s punishing me with his restraint, while his thumb presses down just enough to make every muscle in my body forget how to function.
“And tonight… you’re staying.”
He doesn’t give me the satisfaction of being split wide the way I crave. Instead, he pauses there—just the thick head of hiscock stretching me while his thumb keeps circling, tormenting me until I feel completely unhinged.
“Steven—” My voice breaks into part sob, part plea.
“Your cunt’s trying to choke on my cock before I’ve even given it to you.”
I let out a strangled sound, while my chest heaves against the counter. He still has my wrists pinned behind me in his grip. I don’t know whether to scream, sob, or laugh—because everything feels too good. It’s all too much. My brain can’t keep up, and my body doesn’t give a shit.
“You don’t get to decide when I fuck you,” he rasps. “You don’t get to come just because you’re desperate.”
His hips pull back and I groan in protest. Instead of slamming into me—he drags the head through my slit again, soaking himself in my arousal, only to line up again and stop.
My thighs tremble as my pussy clenches around nothing.
“You crawl for me,” he murmurs. “You beg. You fucking surrender.” Then he pushes in—just the thick head—stretching me open, just enough to make my eyes slam shut and my breath catch.
His thumb presses deeper between my cheeks and I jolt, a broken moan tearing from my throat.
“That’s it,” he breathes, lips close to my ear. “Squirm. Fight it. I want to feel you come apart before I let you have it. I want you to know what it costs to be mine.”
My breath comes in short, ragged bursts. I’m pinned and panting, dripping for him, shaking from how badly I need more. I want anything and everything this man is willing to give me.
“Please,” I gasp, voice splintering. “Steven—please?—”
He chuckles.
“You think that counts as begging?” he rasps. “Sweetheart, you haven’t even fucking started.”
“I need—fuck—I need to come,” I pant, desperate now, pushing my ass back against him. “Please?—”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even fucking budge.
“You think you’ve earned it?” he growls near my ear. “After the shit you pulled? After storming out like you don’t belong to me?”
I sob. My body’s on fire as actual tears run down my face. My cunt continues to clench around nothing, and honestly she’s probably crying too.
“I’ll be good,” I whisper, breaking. “I swear—whatever you want—just please—please fuck me?—”
“Not good enough.”
His grip on my wrists loosens as he slides his hand up, catching me by the throat and dragging me upright against his chest.
“You wanna come?” he whispers. “Then say it.”
I whimper, barely able to breathe. The teeter-totter between pleasure and pain tilts hard, and I’m not sure which side is winning. I think he asked me something—but all I can focus on is the way his grip tightens around my throat.
He slides it lower between the swell of my breasts. He cups one, then the other, rough palms scraping across sensitive skin before he rolls my nipples between his fingers until I gasp.
It keeps trailing lower, over my stomach, between my thighs—until it finds my clit. One touch, and I forget how to fucking breathe.
He starts to circle it devastatingly slow, while his cock still teases at my entrance, refusing to move.
“Say it, beautiful girl,” he commands again. “That this perfect, filthy fucking body is mine to use. Mine to break. Mine to own.”
My eyes slam shut. And I say it—wrecked, and breathless—but I say it. “I’m yours.”
