Page 63 of Sweet Doe
I’ve been hard for an hour. Could’ve had her the second she started moaning. But I like her like this.
Desperate. Dripping. Completely fucking helpless.
Mine.
All mine.
I move slowly, letting my boots hit the floor one heavy step at a time. She tries to track the sound, tilting her head, lifting her chin like she thinks she’ll get a hint of where I am. Lips trembling. Breath hitching.
“You begging again, sweet doe?” My voice drops low—dark and dangerous, just like she likes it.
She whimpers. “Yes.”
“I haven’t even touched you yet.”
“I know.”
Fuck, I love her like this—wreckedand waiting.
I strip in front of her, slow and quiet. No theatrics. Just peeling away every layer until the cold air bites at my skin and there’s nothing between us but tension and sweat and what I’m about to do to her.
Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her waist. One hand braces beside her head. The other trails down her body, barely grazing. Her ribs. Her stomach. The inside of her thighs. Every place that makes her twitch.
She bucks toward my touch, chasing contact. I give her nothing.
Not yet.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to break you like this,” I murmur, dropping my mouth to her ear. “Not just your body.I meaneverything. Your rhythm. Your breath. That sharp little mouth of yours.”
Her lips part on a gasp. No words. Just a sound—raw and needy, caught in her throat.
I lean in closer. Let my breath fan across her skin. Then I flick my tongue over the shell of her ear, slow and filthy.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” I tell her, voice rough. “Laid awake beside you, planning exactly how I was gonna ruin you.”
She lets out a breathy moan when my fingers finally glide through the slick heat of her folds. I don’t dip in. Just trace her, slow and deliberate, spreading the wetness across her swollen skin. Two fingers move in lazy circles, teasing, never satisfying. Watching her body react to the lightest touch is better than any fucking drug I’ve ever known.
“So wet,” I murmur, voice rough with restraint. “So fucking ready for me. And I haven’t even fucked that sweet cunt once today. You that needy, sweetheart?”
She nods, frantic. Barely coherent. “Yes. Yes, please?—”
The second the words leave her mouth, I slap her pussy with a quick, open-handed strike. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make her jolt and cry out, the sound sharp and beautiful.
“You don’t beg until I tell you to,” I growl, my hand still between her legs.
“I—I’m sorry?—”
“No, you’re not,” I mutter, lowering my mouth to her belly. “You’re desperate. Filthy little thing.” I press a kiss just above her mound, slow and possessive, lips lingering like I’m branding her with my mouth. “I made you this way.”
She whimpers again. Her thighs strain against the cuffs. Her hands tug at the bindings above her head. She’s trembling now—tension winding tighter by the second—and I haven’t even started.
I shift lower, breath hot against her center. Close enough she can feel it. I blow gently across her soaked folds, watching the way her hips buck at the sensation. Then I drag my tongue up the full length of her slit, slow and reverent, like I’m savoring a fucking prayer. A high pleasing moan breaks from her chest.
I stop.
Sit back on my heels. Wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while she pants beneath me, helpless, confused, aching.
“You didn’t think I’d let you come that easy, did you?”
