Page 168 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“Trust me,” he says. The seriousness in his voice steals the words from my mouth.
I nod, teeth gritted.
He waits. I can feel his cock throbbing against my ass, but he refuses to move, not even to rut helplessly against me like I would do in his position.
We lie there, bodies cooling. I go a little feral with the denial. My nipples are stiff, aching, desperate for friction. The wetness between my thighs has reached a level of embarrassing I didn’t think possible.
Finally, when I’m about to snap, he kisses my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispers. “I know you can take more.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. Right here, right now, I’m literally going to combust.”
He chuckles, rolls me onto my back, and cages me with his body. I reach for his cock, but he catches my wrist and pins it above my head, the pressure just shy of bruising.
“You know why I’m doing this?” he asks, voice dark.
“Because you’re evil?”
He laughs. “Because you’re going to come so hard, you’ll see god. That’s a promise.”
I roll my eyes, but the way he says it makes me believe him.
He starts at my mouth, kissing me slow and deep, tongue tangling with mine until I can barely breathe. Then he moves to my throat, biting gently, soothing the sting with his tongue. He makes his way down, worshipping every inch of skin, until he’s hovering over my chest.
He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucks it hard. I arch off the bed, desperate for more. He licks one nipple, then moves to the other, biting and sucking until both become swollen, tender, and soaked.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, hips rolling up, searching for friction. “I need to come, Hux.”
“I know you do.” He doesn’t oblige. Instead, he kisses his way down my stomach, licking and biting, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. He stops just above my clit, breathes hot against my skin.
He licks his finger and teases my entrance, sliding in slowly, then out, then back in. He adds a second finger, fucking me shallow and slow, never giving me enough.
I’m going to kill him.
He leans up, face just above mine, and watches me as he works his fingers in and out. I struggle to breathe.
“Look at you,” he says, awed. “You’re desperate.”
“I hate you,” I whisper. It’s a lie and we both know it. I’d let him do anything to me if it meant he’d finally let me come.
He grins, the evil bastard.
He doesn’t touch my clit, not even once. He keeps finger-fucking me, slow and relentless, building pressure until I feel like I’ll crawl out of my skin.
I sob, not from pain or even frustration, but from the sheer, overwhelming need.
“Hunter, please. Please. I need?—”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to fuck me, please, I need to come?—”
He watches me, then finally, mercifully, lines up his cock and pushes in, all at once, filling me so completely that I see stars. His piercing bumps my g-spot and my pussy spasms.
“Fuck, Hux. Fuck! Fuck!”
“Good girl,” he says, thrusting hard and deep. “That’s my good fucking girl.”
