I’ll Keep Pushing Until You Scream My Name

I didn’t flinch when he said that, instead, I laughed softly, mockingly and daring. “Good thing I’m not small.” Then I leaned in until my lips nearly brushed his, my breath sliding over his lips like a promise and a dare. “And I’m brave enough to feel your danger… and bold enough to keep playing until I win.”

The way he looked at me shifted as the seconds stretched, his gaze flickering, first surprised at how unyielding I was, then curiosity giving way to hunger, sharp and consuming with something darker threading into his gaze.

I didn’t break eye contact as I tipped back my whiskey, draining it in one swallow, my throat working around the burn. It was as if the drink was strengthening my boldness and confidence, and with that, just to prove I meant every word, I rose to my feet, smoothing my dress as his gaze tracked me and my every movement, like a prey following the slow glide of my hand smoothing my dress back into place.

He hesitated, his voice low, gaze still locked on me. “Where are you going?” Caesar asked.

I gestured my head toward the elevator. “Up,” I said, my smirk widening. My voice dropped to a whisper, reckless and daring as I continued, “Because I want to show you just how brave I can be with danger.”Maybe it was the whiskey giving me this audacity, but I realized I liked it.

Then, I added, “You can come with me… Or you can sit here with your drink and wonder what would’ve happened if you had.” And with that, I turned, heels clicking against the floor as I walked toward the elevator without looking back because sometimes the bravest move isn’t waiting. It’s walking away and daring him to follow.

And I wasnt wrong because that was all it took. The scrape of his chair against the floor was sharp and immediate, as he stood up from it and got on his feet. He drained the last swallow from his glass without looking away, his gaze molten, hungry. Then he followed, each step behind me carrying the weight of a decision already made.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the seventeenth floor without hesitation. I didn’t look back, but I knew he’d be there before the doors closed.

And he was. A second later, he slipped in, the doors whispering shut behind him and the space shrinking with his presence.

One step was all it took before he pinned me against the mirrored wall, his hand braced above my head, his body caging mine. The confined space pulsed with his heat, his scent, and the dangerous promise of him.

His other hand wasted no time, sliding beneath the hem of my dress with deliberate slowness, a cruel patience that robbed me of breath until his palm cupped my cunt fully through the soft lace.

The tip of his hand pressed hard against my entrance before dragging upward between my slit, smearing the wet heat across the fabric, molding to every swollen curve and by the time he reached my clit, I was already trembling.

Caesar didn’t even try to push my panties aside, instead, he used it, rubbing lazy, merciless circles that scraped the lace against my bare skin, rough and maddening. The friction had my back arching against the mirrored wall, my body straining under the touch of his hand.

Every shift and roll of his fingers was calculated, precise just enough to ignite my lust but never enough to satisfy me. He rolled over my clit with measured pressure, coaxing me higher until the sound that tore from my throat was caught between a gasp and a moan, swallowed by the suffocating silence of the elevator.

“Oh…” I finally let out a slight moan that I've been holding back, and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, dark and mocking, his lips brushing my ear.

“‘Oh?’” he repeated, his tone a sharp taunt. “That’s all you can give me? I’ll drag more than a whimper out of you before I’m done and next time, it better be my name spilling out of that pretty mouth of urs.” Caesar said with his fingertips pressing harder against my clit, rubbing fast circles through the fabric, each stroke rough and sharp with friction, every pass cruelly precise.

‘Fuck!’ I groaned inwardly. Even through the lace I felt everything, the heat of him, the relentless drag of his touch, making my pussy more wet. I was drenched, my panties already soaked, clinging to my cunt, making it effortless for him to grind and swipe his fingers over my clit, the most delicate part of me. The speed sent sparks racing through me, every ruthless stroke threatening to rip my orgasm out from my body. The lace of my panties, rubbing along with the pressure his hand against my cunt, just enough to set every nerve alight, every movement a tormenting promise of more that never came.

“AHHH…” I let it out again, and he growled, low and rough,“No. That’s too soft. I want my name coming out from your lips nothing else.” His fingers pressed harder, circling faster, the merciless rhythm turning his threat into a promise. “And trust me,” he rasped, voice thick with command, “I won’t stop until it’s all you can say.”

My thighs trembled, my knees weakened, and my breath caught in ragged bursts I couldn’t control as he used his fingers swiping against my clit and lace pressing against my cunt to torment me. Even as I tried to move, his body caged me there against the wall, cupped, contained, teased within the prison of his palm while the elevator climbed, every floor another second of unbearable restraint.

My gasp broke into a whimper as his fingers spread me wider, stroking my slick folds through the fabric, while pressing his middle finger harder, and circling faster against my clit as the elevator rose higher. I couldn’t even think of floors or time, only the merciless rhythm of his endless touch, the way he owned me with every punishing stroke.

The air was thick with my wetness and want as his fingers stayed beneath my dress, steady and flicking relentless against my clit. I moaned, as my legs shook at this mad torture that was never enough to make me cum, but never letting me breathe either. Each floor that ticked by wound the tension tighter, daring me not to break first.

“Trust me,” Caesar whispered against my ear, voice dripping with mockery, “I’ll keep pushing until you scream my name.”

Through my ragged breath I forced a trembling laugh, my smirk curving even as my body quaked. “Then push harder,” I dared.