Page 69 of Angels In The Dark

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Page 69 of Angels In The Dark

This is when she is most beautiful. When she fights. It’s when she’s alive.

Her impatience is endearing though, and I decide to be merciful.

“You’re allowed to come as many times as you want. But do you remember what I want?” My fingers trail closer to her center as I speak. “Say it.”

All she can do is whimper in response, but it’s not enough.

“Do it. Count for me, baby.” My command is as sharp as my smack on her pussy. At the impact, she cries out and falls apart in my arms.

“One.” She chokes on the word.

I can feel the shock waves of pleasure rolling through her body. My hands grip her by the thighs to keep her spread wide open as she rides out her orgasm, denying her body the respite it tries to find by curling up. Her entire body shakes with violent tremors, but I don’t let go. When she starts to twist, trying to escape my hold, I bring my arm around to secure her by the waist and throw my leg over her own. When her whines and whimpers turn into cries, I can tell she has reached the peak. She’s going to fall hard and fast. And I’ll be right there to catch her.

“So good for me,” I praise as my lips trail her jawline.

Trapped in my arms, she struggles against my hold, but as her crashing tide withdraws, she begins to settle against me.

My free hand goes to her pussy, and my fingers tap against her core at a frantic pace. I want to hear her crying for release and hear her scream my name.

When her hips began to rock up into my touch, I switch the pacing and began to rub my hand up and down her center, still covered by her clothes. Each time she tries to push me away, I hold her pussy firmly to remind her who it belongs to.

Her shrieks transform into a burst of manic laughter.

“So needy,” I tease while nipping at her collar.

This time when she squirms, I don’t stop her. I let her make every attempt to get away from me. I let her have the illusion she can take her pleasure from me.

But it isn’t her decision to make.

In her attempt to escape my persistent touch, she falls to the side, so she lies in my lap, on display for me to play with. My hands graze her sides from her hip up to her collarbone. I reach for her wrists and take them in one hand to hold above her head while my other uses a single finger to trace the column of her neck and tilt her face to me.

“Do you know why I have you count how many times you come?” I ask, giving her a moment to catch her breath. “Because every number you breathe only tells me you want more. Because you need to know how much of you belongs to me.”

My hand reaches for her center and slides beneath the waistband of her pants. I find her bare under them, and I redouble my efforts. The increasing pressure makes her buck and moan under my touch. Moans turn into whimpers and whimpers into desperate pleas.

“Again. Come for me, baby.”

With a gasp, desperate for air, I feel her break. Her body shakes with tremors and twitches as she rides the wave of pleasure.

I release her hands and let her turn into herself. I only give her a minute before reaching for her, but I pause when I register her silence.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” But gods, I hope she won’t.

“Please. Don’t. Stop.”




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