I didn’t waver in the attention I was paying to his cock, but I did relax my thighs, so that I was sitting on his leg instead of perched above it, and I undulated my body in time with my ministrations to his cock, teasing my clit with each delicious motion and stoking the fire that was already raging inside me.
“Jesus, baby,” he said, as I licked his shaft all the way down to where I cupped his balls and then back up to the tip. His body was rigid and tight, as if readying for the explosion that I intended to give him.
I opened my mouth and drew him in. Just the tip at first, because I wanted to make him desperate. Hell, I wanted to make him beg. Then I went deeper, relishing the way his body tightened and letting his groans of pleasure wash over me. I’ve never felt particularly skilled where giving head is concerned, but right then I felt powerful. Hell, I felt perfect.
“Lina,” he groaned. “Shit, Lina, you feel fucking amazing.”
He was so damn close—but I had other plans for that gorgeous cock, and I slowly withdrew my mouth, then eased my body up. Now, I did more than just straddle a thigh. Instead, I straddled his hips, and in slow, careful moves designed to drive us both crazy, I let the tip of his cock stroke my slick cunt.
I was so damn ready, and this was torturing me as much as it was him. But as I moved—as I denied myself the pleasure of slamming my body down hard and impaling myself on him, of having him fill me in one glorious, deep thrust—I understood how he had survived so far without actually fucking me. Because this anticipation was just as exciting as the act itself, and if I were a stronger person I could have teased him forever, and with the greatest of pleasure.
But I wasn’t that strong.
What had Cole called it? Evan’s capacity for self-deprivation? Well, I didn’t have it. I wanted him. Needed him. Had to have him right then, because my senses were on overload and the only thing that could keep me from imploding was the feel of this man inside me.
Fuck it. I couldn’t wait another second, and I thrust downward, crying out as my body stretched wide to accommodate him. I rose up, then slammed down again, leaning back so I could hold on to his legs even as he reached up and grasped my hips, forcing me to go deeper, harder, faster.
He was close. I could tell by the way that tension was building in his body as we moved together, and I arched back, moaning with pleasure at the way he filled me—and then squealing in surprise and delight as he grabbed me tight and rolled us over, tumbling me onto my back with our bodies still joined.
“Evan!”
His kiss was hard and demanding and very effectively shut me up. “You didn’t wait for me to get a condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” I said. “And I assumed you were clean.”
“I am,” he said.
“So that’s why you stopped?”
He laughed. “Baby, I’m still inside you. Is that stopping?”
“No, but—”
He pressed his finger over my lips. “I seem to recall mentioning to you that I like being in control.”
“Oh. Right. You might have said that,” I admitted, squirming beneath him. “I think you liked letting me take over for a while, too.”
“Careful. That’s the kind of thing a woman can get punished for.”
“Is that so?” I asked playfully.
“Hell, yes,” he said, returning my smile with one of his own, and then staying perfectly still.
He was still hard inside me, and yet he wasn’t moving. I groaned in protest and tried to shift my hips in silent demand. But I couldn’t do much; he’d trapped me good and tight.
I was beginning to understand what he meant by “punishment.”
He grinned knowingly. “Frustrated, Lina?”
“Even if I were, I wouldn’t admit it.”
He laughed outright, and the sound delighted me. “How do you do that?” I asked.