Before I could say a word, his fingers slipped between my thighs again—two of them sliding in easily, slick from everything we’d just shared. I gasped, arching up, my hips chasing the rhythm he hadn’t even set yet.
He moved them slowly, curling just right, thumb brushing over my clit in soft, maddening circles.
“Now,” he whispered, tongue flicking the shell of my ear, “I want to hear something from you.”
His fingers worked deeper, faster, each stroke making my thighs shake.
“What…” I breathed, barely able to think. “What do you want to hear?”
He bit my earlobe gently, fingers thrusting harder, slick sounds filling the room like music only we could hear.
“What do you call me,” he growled, “when I’m fucking you like this? When I’m rough… when I’m claiming what’s mine?”
My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears. My skin was burning, my legs trembling.
“Say it,” he coaxed, thumb pressing hard on my clit now, fingers curling perfectly. “Say it, baby. What do you call me w
