“Cam… I… Holy shit!” The words freefall from me, but other than pressing down into his thighs, there’s nothing I can do.
The stray hand wanders to my throat, engulfing my entire neck he squeezes, gently at first, more guiding and threatening. But as soon as my body threatens to erupt, he pauses, fingers still inside me but motionless.
As soon as my breathing returns, he starts again, building the same damned desire to the surface.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, grinding against his hand, pleading with my body for him to finish the job.
But he does the opposite.
His fingers vanish, replaced by the sharp crack of his hand against my skin—this time, harder.
I expect to recoil. To flinch. But the sting doesn’t repel me—it ignites something deeper.
Instead of retreating, my body arches into it.
The heat, the burn, it intensifies everything.
And instead of crying out in protest, I moan—loud, guttural, unstoppable. So loud, I swear the whole neighbourhood can hear me unravel.
And then he’s right back inside me, only this time my body coils quicker, desperate to reach the finish line.
“You want this?” he growls, voice thick with heat. “You want to cum?”
I nod, desperate, twisting in his lap until I’m looking up at him
God—he’s coming undone.
His lips are parted, chest heaving with the kind of breath that shakes control loose.
Those laboured rises of his chest mirror my own desperation—like we’re both teetering on the edge, suspended between restraint and collapse.
“You know what you need to do then,” he teases.
I immediately shuffle back, reaching with my mouth for his cock that he’s tucked back away. “I didn’t mean that,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t stop me.
If anything, he encourages it—his hands working deftly to free what I couldn’t, then settling behind him, body relaxed, eyes locked on me.
He leans back, the picture of patience and quiet dominance, watching every move I make like it’s a performance he’s been craving all night.
But he said he likes the pain…
And right now, I’m giving him none of it.
The thought twists through me, unwelcome and urgent. I need to make him feel something. Something sharp. Something mine.
Driven by need, I shift in his lap, lower myself to the V carved into his hips where his shirt has risen up. My tongue trails the vein pulsing just beneath his skin—mapped like a path I’m desperate to follow.
Then I bite.
Not gentle. Not tentative.
My mouth seals over that stretch of muscle, sucking down hard, marking him with purpose.
A flare of heat rises between us—proof that now, I’m giving him exactly what he wants.
He lets out a triumphanthummpftbut I don’t stop my tirade, I’m all over him, sucking, biting, nibbling, taking whatever I can get.
His cock jerks when I suck down on his thigh, so close to his balls, and I think I unravel him completely.
