Page 27 of Sexting the Boss
She gasps. I don’t let her speak. I pound into her like I’m proving something. “You think you run this show?” I hiss, driving into her again. “You think you get to tease me, suck me, ride me, and not pay for it?”
She’s moaning too loud to answer.
“Answer me.”
“No, Sir,” she whimpers.
“Who owns this pussy?”
“You do.”
I fuck her harder.
Her fingers dig into my back. She’s so tight I’m losing control.
“Hands above your head,” I bark.
She obeys.
I trap her wrists in one hand and grab her thigh with the other, hiking her leg up to my shoulder. She screams. I go deeper. “You going to come again?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You better wait.”
“I—fuck—please?—”
Her eyes roll back. I feel her body begging to come again. But not yet.
I slow the pace. Draw it out. “Next time you want to take control,” I growl into her ear, “you ask. You earn it. You understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
And now she’s perfect again.
She’s shaking under me again, breath coming apart, eyes glossy and unfocused. I can feel how close she is. I can feel how closeIam. My cock is thick and aching, buried deep in her, every thrust dragging a sound out of her that hits straight in my chest.
I slow my pace on purpose. Her body protests immediately. She whimpers, hips lifting, trying to meet me. I don’t let her.
“Stay,” I say, voice low and firm.
She stills. Barely. Trembling, but listening.
God. That gets me every time. The way she listens. The way she trusts me with this. I lean down, press my forehead to hers, keep moving in slow strokes that make her whine. “You’ve been so good for me tonight,” I murmur. “So open. So fucking brave.”
Her nails dig into the sheets. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” I thrust deep and hold there. “You can take it. You’re stronger than you think.”
Her walls clamp around me hard, and I hiss through my teeth. All these years. All this experience. And then her.
It pisses me off how much I want her.
I pick up the pace again, harder now. She cries out, head tipping back, throat exposed. I take it. Kiss it. Bite it lightly. “You like when I fuck you like this,” I say.
“Yes,” she moans. “Yes, sir.”
That word ignites a wave of possessiveness in me. I grab her wrists again, pin them to the mattress above her head. “Say it again.”
