“Y-yes,” I answer truthfully.
“Even when I tell you not to?”
“Yes.”
“Even when it earns you a punishment?”
“Because I want multiple punishments.”
He clears his throat to cover a chuckle, but once again regains his control. I absolutely love seeing that he can’t always be stoic around me. It makes this more tangible, more real, and I’ve never had that before. I long for it on every level.
“Orgasms aren’t the only form of punishment you know.” He steps even closer, near enough I can feel the heat of his body, but he still isn’t touching me. “What if I spank your ass instead?”
“That’ll probably make me come, too.”
He groans, his cock flexing near my stomach.
I want to reach for him, to touch him. My fingers tingle with the necessity to brush his warm skin and soak up his warmth, but somehow, I manage to keep my arms at my sides. The restraint only heightens what’s to come.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?”
My throat seizes. “You haven’t told me to take them off.”
His teeth dig into his lower lip before he speaks again. His eyes trail down the length of me, and it’s as if he can already imagine my nakedness. I feel exposed even though I’m the one standing here dressed when he isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.
“Do you want me to undress you, or do you want to do it yourself?”
“Wh-Whatever you want.”
“So obedient,” he praises, his thumb traveling the side of my breast. My nipples ache, tits growing heavy with the soft touch. “Unwrap yourself for me.”
“With modesty?” I tease since he demanded this very thing in the elevator before.
His lip twitches, his cock jumping between us, and I don’t know where to focus my attention at the moment.
Instead of giving me another command, he reaches for me, hands traveling up my sides, the thin fabric of my tank top fisted between his fingers. Lifting my arms to assist, my breath hitches when he pulls the shirt over my head. My tits bounce, eager to be released, and I take a half-step closer to him.
He groans, stepping back to increase the distance between us. My shirt flutters to the floor as my nipples harden further.
“Your shorts,” he growls. “Off.”
My thumbs slide into the waist, and I notice the quiver in my palms as I push them down.
“It should be illegal to cover such a perfect pussy around me.” I try to search his eyes, but he’s watching my clothes lower rather than trying to hold my gaze.
That’s when I notice the tremble in his own hands, and what power it gives me to see his own restraint beginning to buckle.
“What now?” I ask, breathless and filled with anticipation when he just stands there taking stock of my body.
“There are a million things I want to do to you,” he whispers. “Maybe even more.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, anxious for his hands to touch, to roam, to take over and make me his.
“On the bed, legs spread wide.”
I scramble like a mouse has just run across my foot, and his low chuckle at my excitement calms an otherwise tense situation.
I look to him for further instruction once my back is against the headboard.
He hasn’t moved, other than to face me fully. His cock leaks, just as hungry for me as I seem to be for him.
“You said you’ll touch my pussy without permission.” His throat works as his focus lands on the center of me. “And if I tell you to touch it now?”
“Are you?” The fingers of my left hand shake with the need to caress my own skin. Self-pleasure has become an art form recently, but this is different. His eyes on me affect me in more ways than I can count. “Wren?”
He continues to watch, assessing the situation and leaving me hanging. My legs shift, the urgency growing by the second, then his eyes find mine.
“Do you need aggression to come?”
I search his face, but I don’t know how to answer.
“Do you need me to be forceful with you to get you there?”
“If that’s what you wan—”
“No, Whitney. What do you need?”
“I may come the second you touch me,” I confess, not realizing I don’t need any of the things he’s asking about right now. The sexual tension has been building for weeks, and I’m like a dormant volcano that’s somehow built enough pressure to explode at a moment’s notice.
“Do I need to get dressed for you to answer me, Whitney?” he asks, clearly not happy with my non-answer.
The threat of this ending makes me nervous in a bad way, but I can tell he isn’t going to relent.
“Not this time.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m so close already.”
“I haven’t touched you.”
“I know.” God, does my body know that fact.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Do you need me to touch you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do. Are you being greedy?”
My cheeks heat. “Yes.”
“Touch my pussy, Whitney. I want to know what it’s going to look like when I’m away and my needy pussy won’t obey commands.”
I don’t tease. I don’t pause. I don’t waste a second.
“Slowly,” he growls when I go right for the gold.
“I can’t,” I complain, my fingers dipping just an inch inside to gather my arousal before rubbing it over my swollen clit. “Oh, God.”
“You’re breathless already. Slower, Whitney.”
I whimper, wanting to disobey, but knowing the good stuff comes with my compliance.
“Please,” I beg, and for the life of me, I don’t know exactly what I’m asking. Do I want more? Less? Him? Permission? Maybe a combination of all of the above?
Yes, that’s definitely it. I want all of it.
“How close are you?”
“S-so close. Right there.” My entrance quivers, begging my fingers to move faster.
“Stop.”
I cry out at the loss but pull my hands away.
“You could’ve taken it. You could be clenching and coming. Yet your pussy is screaming at you for stopping. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you give in to your body’s
