Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
“Well?”
“You’re an arsehole,” she spits.
I chuckle, completely unaffected.
“I know.”
She clenches her jaw, her entire body tense, vibrating with resistance.
For a moment, I think she might hold out longer - that she might keep fighting me on this.
But then, she snaps.
Her hands slap against the door, her nails scraping against the wood as her head falls forwards. When she speaks, her voice breaks, and she finally, finally begs.
“Please, Freddie.”
Fucking hell.
My cock throbs, but I’m not going to give into her that easily.
“Please what?” I demand.
Her head turns over her shoulder so that she’s half looking at me, half looking away - like she can’t stand the weight of my gaze, like she already knows she’s lost.
I step forwards and reach for her, my fingers tracing the curve of her waist, my nails grazing her bare skin just to make her shudder.
“I’m a man of many talents, Poppy, but unfortunately, I can’t read your mind,” I murmur, my lips brushing against the back of her neck. “You’re going to have to use your words if you want something from me.”
She presses back against me, her nails biting into the door, her entire body bowing for me.
“Please,” she breathes again, her voice barely above a whisper.
It won’t do, though.
She’s going to have to learn.
I tighten my grip on her waist as I press my lips to the shell of her ear, my teeth grazing against her soft, sensitive skin.
“Please what, Poppy?”
Her breath hitches, and finally, she breaks.
"Please, Freddie," she whispers, her voice soft, desperate, ruined. "Please, make me come."
And just like that, I’ve won.
A growl rumbles deep in my chest, my fingers flexing against her waist as heat surges through me, raw and demanding.
She asked so sweetly. So perfectly.
So fucking ruined.
I suppose she deserves her reward.
“Good girl,” I murmur before my lips press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her throat.
Her body near enough melts against me as her hands continue to grip the door.
It’s like she already knows that she’s about to fall apart. That I’m about to wreck her.
I move fast - one hand gripping her hip, the other slipping lower, fingers brushing over her slit. She gasps, her back arching and her nails scraping against the surface as she presses back against me, seeking more, needing more.
I slide my fingers against her cunt, testing and feeling how she’s already so hot and wet for me.
I know that should drive me insane. That it should push me over the edge.
But instead, I feel calm.
Focused.
Because right now, in this moment, she belongs to me - and I’m going to make sure she never forgets it.
I press my lips to her ear, my fingers sliding between her thighs over and over again, stroking, circling and pressing. Her hips buck against my hand, desperate for more, but I drag it out as long as possible, enjoying the desperate sounds that slip from her lips -
And then I sink my fingers inside her.
She cries out, her body jerking and her lips parting in a breathless, shattered moan.
Merde.
She’s so tight, so hot, so fucking perfect.
Her thighs tremble as her hips roll, her fingers scraping against the door as I move inside her, slow but deep. My fingers push and press and curl, and I grin to myself as I drag out her pleasure.
She’s sensitive. Overstimulated.
And fuck, I love it.
She bites her lip, a choked whimper escaping her throat, and I smirk against her skin.
“What’s the matter, mon ange?” I murmur, my pace quickening, my thumb pressing firm circles against her wet clit.
She gasps, her legs wobbling, her nails biting into the wood.
I tighten my grip, holding her up and refusing to let her escape - refusing to let her run from what I’m doing to her.
“Can’t handle it?” I ask.
She whimpers as she shakes her head. Her hips continue to buck and roll into my hand, seeking more.
But I’m not done with her yet.
Not until she begs again.
I slow my movements, my fingers curling inside her, pressing against that perfect spot, teasing her just enough to drive her insane.
She gasps, her body locking up, her breathing ragged, her frustration palpable.
I smirk, dragging my lips over her jaw, pressing soft, slow kisses along the column of her throat.
“You want to come for me?” I ask. “Want to come right now, on my fingers?”
She nods frantically, her head tipping back, her body trembling; but I let out a disappointed tsk.
“What did I say about using your words, Poppy?” I remind her. “Tell me.”
She groans, frustration evident in the sound as her hands fist against the door, her body practically vibrating with need.
“Freddie, I’m not -”
“Tell me, Poppy,” I demand, thrusting my fingers deeper.
The action causes her to cry out and arch further into me, writhing against me as her resolve breaks.
“Please -”
“Please what?”
Her breathing is ragged, her fingers trembling.