Daniel smiles with grim satisfaction. “Good girl, Princess.”
He slides his hand under the fabric, and his fingers sink into my pussy with shocking ease. I’m so wet that he goes in deep, pulling another moan from me as he kisses me again. Fuck.
Pleasure shocks through me, hard and fast, and I’m ready to come in seconds. But I don’t want it to be over. I’m arching up into his hand, seeking every ounce of pleasure that he’s giving me. Drowning in it. I’m so close. So, so close.
Daniel tears his mouth away from mine. “You’re not fucking done,” he growls. “You will beg me to come.”
I shudder. No. I’m not going to do that. It’s right there, just out of reach, and he’s not going to deny me that. I already begged him once. He’s not that much of a monster. I say nothing and close my eyes, pressing my hips into his fingers.
They disappear.
My eyes fly open, and I find his hard eyes staring down at me. I growl in frustration. Fuck this, I’m not going to lose my orgasm because of him. I shove my hand between my legs, and he catches my wrist before I can even make contact. He pulls my arm over my head, and releases my throat to grab my other wrist. Suddenly, both wrists are in one of his hands, pinned above my head.
The look on his face is fury and fire and lust all at the same time, pure exasperation. The contrast would be amusing, if I weren’t so desperately aware of our positions and my quickly fading pleasure. “Dammit, Daniel.”
“Beg.”
“No.”
“Then we’re done.”
He smiles when I make a desperate noise of protest, not letting me go. “I don’t understand,” I say. “I can’t. How can you promise to give me everything I want for a wedding? Clothes. Money. Trips around the world. And not give me a simple fucking orgasm?”
He leans close, and I know that he sees the way I’m trembling. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t come, I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life. And he speaks words that cut me to the core.
“Because you don’t actually care about the wedding. Not yet, anyway. You don’t care about trips or the clothes or any of it. You enjoy it, but you don’t care about it. Everything you’ve ever known has been handed to you. And you’ve never had to fight for the things you care about.
“Right now, I know that you care about your orgasm. It makes you feel something.”
“I hate you,” I say, trying to fight my way out of his grip. It doesn’t faze him in the slightest. “I know,” he says, “but you’re still going to beg.”
I thrust my chin up. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ve got all day,” he says. “I’ll keep you here, and bring you to the edge over and over until you’re so mindless with it that you don’t have a choice.”
Anger and arousal flood my system. I feel like I can’t breathe. His face softens for a second, and I feel his fingers creep back down. He enters me smoothly, and I groan. It’s perfect, the feeling of his fingers stroking inside, brushing that makes light flash behind my eyes. I’m on the edge again in seconds. “You’ve done so well, Princess. You already asked for this. Ask for more.”
I shake my head. I can’t give in. Not when it feels like I’m going to lose part of myself. He kisses me so tenderly that I feel a surge of emotion, confusing and beautiful and welcome. It’s like he’s asking me to let go and trust him. And in a way he is. Asking for what I want. “I need it.”
“What do you need?”
I can’t look at him, and I close my eyes. “I need to come.”
His fingers speed up, pleasure rolling up through my spine and all the way to where his hand holds my wrists.
“No,” he says. But before I can say anything, he covers my mouth with his. Sweet and soft and deepening. “But keep asking. That’s the other thing you’ve never heard, Monica. The word no. So you’re going to keep asking until I decide that you’ve had enough. Fight me all you want, but I’m going to win. I’m going to own you, Princess. Heart and soul.”
His fingers work me in sure strokes, thrusting against my G-spot and making fireworks explode in my core. I could come. I don’t have to listen to him. There’s nothing stopping me. Except, I don’t want to. I want to listen. I want to feel that release without shame. I want to hear him call me a good girl again, even if I feel like I shouldn’t want that.
But does should and shouldn’t matter right now? We’re the only ones here. And he’s going to marry me. I realize that I’m afraid of the future, and how he’ll choose to use this against me. But that’s not something I can carry. He’s hard. He’s ruthless. But he’s not cruel.