Page 80 of Come for Me
Dax throws his head back, neck bared to the room, hissing with pleasure. My eyes water, but through them glints the glorious sight of the pure alpha male, hard muscles clenching and veins prominent in the arms holding me to his mercy. Tattoos dancing up his arm and across his chest lead my eyes to the throat my wolf longs to lick and sink her teeth into.
My mouth waters, slickening his cock further, sending him deeper as the added sensation flutters his eyes to mine. He pounds deep into my throat again and again, the room filling with slurping and gagging and his wolf’s grunts and groans.
I’m frozen with the fear of such a powerful release inside of me. All I can do is watch this man lose control of himself while still in charge of me.
Meanwhile, my orgasm has built to a pace I can no longer keep up with, outrunning me.
I am at the mercy of the least merciless man to exist.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”
The pleasure device ends with a click of the button. My pending orgasm halts. He pulls me off him by my hair, I hiss from his tight grip.
“Say thank you,” he instructs.
“Thank you.”
“‘Thank you for letting me suck your cock.’”
“Thank you for letting me suck your cock.”
“Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
“Good girl.” He nods, gesturing behind me. “On the bed.”
My legs are shaking, but I make it to the bed and stick my ass out on the edge of it on all fours. I’m needy and soaked. Eager and ready to take all of him.
“I’m not fucking you yet.” He takes the collar off, a heavy hand slapping my ass to turn me over, switching on the devices buried inside me.
“Oh,” I moan, and my arms shake with my entire core.
I rock my hips, climbing up . . . up . . . up . . .
Then it stops, and I collapse to my elbows.
He spanks me again, making soothing circles over my cheek with his palm.
“Please, Dax, I’m sorry.”
“Aw...” He kisses my back. “No, you’re not. But you’re about to be.”
Fuck.
“Sit up.”
I push up off my elbows and brace myself.
* * *
He clicks the device off again, ignoring my pleas and bestowing another denial on me. I know now why people told stories growing up about Dax, the king of torture. After an hour of his pleasure tool without being allowed to come, my legs are trembling uncontrollably. My mind is in a haze.
“Aw, baby, you’re shaking. You really wanted to come, didn’t you?”
I nod, whimpering.
Tears slide down my sore cheeks, my mouth parted in a silent plea as I fight against the orgasm he’s teased to new maddening heights each time he’s denied me.
