Page 66 of Fight or Flight
His expression goes from shocked to pissed, and he pushes against me, trying to break my hold.
I keep my weight pressed against him and let him fight, but all he manages to do is wiggle and frot against me until we’re both rock hard.
“Fuck,” he moans, his eyes sliding shut as he stops trying to break free.
“That’s right.” I lean closer until my lips are next to his ear. “Let me hear how much you love feeling me against you.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” I give his earlobe a little nip.
He jumps and lets out a little whimper that sends a pulse of need through me.
“You hate that you love this.” Another bite. “And you hate that you don’t want me to stop.”
“Fuck you,” he groans when I gently trace my tongue over the shell of his ear.
“Soon,” I tell him.
He’s glaring at me when I pull back so I can look at his face, but the effect is ruined by his flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. I don’t bother hiding my smile, which only makes him glare harder.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” I press my dick against his. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this.”
His moan is low and deep, and I feel it rumble out from his chest more than I hear it.
“Tell me you haven’t thought about how much you want me on my knees for you,” I taunt. “How much you want to feel my mouth around your cock.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who’s thought about it,” he says, his voice broken and strained. “Like you’re the one who wants it.”
“I never said I didn’t.” I bump my hips forward and drag my dick against his. “There’s only one of us in this room who still pretends like we don’t both want this.”
“You’re doing an awful lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to want to blow me so bad,” he points out, some of the clarity coming back to his eyes.
I let go of him. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make me.”
His eyes widen, and I don’t miss the flash of heat in them.
Slowly, I sink to my knees in front of him.
“Oh god,” he gasps, his eyes wide as he stares down at me. “Are you really going to…”
“Yup.” Closing my hands around his thick thighs, I give the hard muscles a squeeze. “But you have to ask nicely.”
“What?”
“You have to ask nicely,” I repeat. “That’s how this works. If you want my mouth, then you have to earn it.”
“Earn it?”
“Yup.” Sliding my hands up his thighs, I skim my thumbs over the seam where his legs meet his hips, barely missing his cock as it strains against the fabric of his jeans. “So what do you say? Are you going to ask nicely?”
His lips part like he’s going to do exactly that, but instead they tip up in a little grin. “And what if I don’t want to ask nicely?”
“Then you have two choices.” I wrap my hands around his waist. “You can tell me to get the fuck out, or you can beg me.”
“Beg you,” he laughs. “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”
“I think you will.”
