"So we're good."
"We're good," I agreed.
"Good, because I want to fill this sweet little cunt up with my come," he said, emphasizing his point by thrusting a finger inside me. "You want that too, don't you?"
God yes.
I wanted him any way, every way, but especially, I wanted to feel him with nothing between us.
"Yes," I answered as his finger started thrusting into me.
"Good," he said, pulling his finger out and, before I could even mourn the loss, thrusting his cock fully inside me, making a loud moan escape me as I pressed back into him, taking him as deep as my body would allow. "Listen... listen," he repeated when I started thrusting against him shamelessly, whimpering at the tension coiled inside, needing it to snap. "You do not come without permission. Do you understand me?"
My hips stopped moving. "Byron..."
"Do you understand me, Prue?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"Good girl," he said, grabbing the belt and holding onto it as he fucked me. There was nothing sweet or slow or explorative. He fucked me, plain and simple. His thrusts were hard, shoving me up against the mattress at each pass, filling me completely, then almost completely withdrawing before slamming forward again. I felt my walls get tighter with each invasion, groaning, moaning, begging with my need to come. "No," he told me for the third time. But then he slammed deep and I felt his hot orgasm fill me as he cursed. It shocked me enough to make me completely straighten, my entire body tense.
He came.
He came and he didn't let me come.
Behind me, I felt his chest shake like he was silently chuckling as he simultaneously unbound my wrists and slowly slid out of me. He moved back and I knew he was looking at the come I felt trickling down my thigh and I was simply too stunned to care. "Fuck yeah, babe. That's what I wanted," he informed me and I literally had to bite my lip to keep from snapping and saying that I certainly hadn't gotten what I wanted. "Go clean up and come back here," he told me and I stiffly got to my feet, annoyed at more directions, but the urge to get cleaned up was stronger than my urge to leash into him.
So I went to the bathroom and I took a good long time in there cleaning up then watching my reflection and trying to convince myself to walk out there and tell him how messed up it was to purposely fuck me without letting me come. That was all kinds of messed up.
Byron might have been a lot of things, but I would never have ever thought I would call him a selfish lover. He always gave twice as good as he got.
I walked back out of the bathroom in the white bathrobe the bathroom had come equipped with when I moved in, my shoulders stiff, my lips in a firm line.
Byron was on top of my bed, head cocked to the side, watching me. A slow, boyish smile spread over his face. "You're pissed at me, aren't you?"
"That was really..." I started as I walked closer.
But then he snagged my wrist and pulled, sending me flying onto the bed then pushing me onto my back and half covering my body with his before I could even think to move for myself. "Hey, beautiful," he said, his voice soft. "Do you really think I would not let you come?" He asked as he watched my face, his hand moving down the V the robe left down my chest, grabbing the knot, and undoing it so his hand could continue its exploration downward.
"You didn't," I reminded him.
"Not yet, no," he said, his fingers whispering over the triangle above my sex. "But, babe, I was in a mood."
"I noticed," I said, because, well, I had.
"And I needed to get that energy out."
"I was literally just seconds away..."
"I want to take my time," he said, his fingers pressing between my thighs and running up my cleft. "I want to get my tongue in here. I want to taste you on my tongue again. I want to make you come until you feel like you can't come anymore. So if you're over your snit, I'd like to get to that."
"I was not in a snit," I objected.
"Fuck off," he smiled, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on my lips. "You still are. But I think I know the cure for that..."
"Orgasms don't fix everything," I objected as his weight shifted and his mouth pressed kisses down my neck, then over each breast, then into the delicate undersides of them, before moving a trail down the center of my stomach.
"Want to bet?" he asked, looking up at me from the juncture of my thighs.
I knew better.
Because if there was one thing I knew about gambling, it was the house always wins. Eventually.