Chapter 37 Chapter 37

Chapter 37 Chapter 37
~BRIENNE VONBERG~

His breathing changed slightly through the phone. Not enough that most people would notice, but enough that I did.

“Keep talking.”

My thighs trembled. I hated how quickly my body responded to his voice. Hated how every word out of his mouth felt like fingers sliding beneath my skin searching for weak spots only he knew existed. My free hand gripped the sheets tightly while my fingers worked faster between my legs, chasing the pressure steadily building lower and lower.

“You liked hearing me beg,” I whispered.

“I loved hearing you beg.”

The blunt honesty of it made heat rush through me so violently I almost lost rhythm completely.

“You’re arrogant.”

"No. You hate that I unravel you."

I glared uselessly at the screen despite the fact that my body was reacting exactly the way he wanted. His fist moved harder now, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to have that same hand gripping my thigh while he pushed inside me.

“Take your fingers out,” he said suddenly.

I froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Frustration hit instantly, sharp enough to make my stomach tighten painfully. “Absolutely not.”
A quiet exhale left him.

“Brienne.”

“No.” My voice came out breathless and desperate and humiliatingly needy all at once.

“You don’t get to control every—”

“Take them out,” he repeated calmly. “Or I hang up.”

My hand stopped instantly. I hated him.
Gosh, I hated him.

The silence stretched while I sat there trembling with frustration, thighs slick and aching while he watched me through the screen with infuriating calm. The pleasure pulsing low in my stomach had nowhere to go now, trapped there deliberately because he wanted it trapped there.

“Allister—”

“What do you see on your screen?” he interrupted quietly. A silent proof he knew I'd hacked into his cameras.

I clenched my jaw.

“You know what I see.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

The heat in my face spread all the way down my neck. He was doing this on purpose. Every question. Every pause. Every command. He liked forcing words out of me almost as much as he liked forcing reactions from my body.

“You,” I muttered finally.

“And?”

I looked at the screen again. At the tattoos stretched over hard muscle. At the tension in his abdomen every time his hand moved. At the size of him in his fist, thick and flushed and painfully hard while his expression somehow stayed composed through all of it.

“You look—”

“Finish the sentence.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Like something designed to ruin people.”

The quiet sound that left him almost resembled a laugh, except darker somehow. Rougher.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Shut up.” My thighs clenched again. His hand sped up slightly and my breathing immediately followed without permission, my body reacting to every subtle shift in his movements. The tension low in my stomach was unbearable now, hot and tight and viciously demanding release.

“Touch yourself again,” he said softly. I did immediately. I couldn't believe I was obeying his every command.

The moan that escaped me this time was louder.

“There you are,” he murmured.

My fingers moved faster and I watched him lose pieces of his control inch by inch. His jaw tightened visibly now. His breathing deepened. The muscles in his stomach flexed harder each time his fist slid over himself and the sight nearly destroyed what little sanity I had left.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered quietly.

My entire body obeyed. Pleasure crashed through me violently, building so hard and fast that my legs began trembling against the sheets. I could barely think anymore. Barely breathe. Everything narrowed down to his voice in my ear and the image of him on the screen driving me steadily toward the edge.

“Allister—”

“That’s it,” he said roughly. “Look at me when you come.”

The command shattered something inside me.
My orgasm hit suddenly and brutally, ripping through my body hard enough to force a cry from my throat while my back arched off the bed. Heat flooded through me in relentless waves as my fingers kept moving helplessly between my thighs, riding through the aftershocks while his name slipped from my mouth again before I could stop it.

“Fuck,” he groaned softly.

His control finally cracked after that.
I watched his head fall back slightly while his hand moved harder over himself, tension pulling sharply through his body before release hit him too. His fist tightened. His abdomen flexed. Thick streaks spilled over his hand while a low sound escaped him that sent another pulse of heat through my exhausted body.

For several seconds neither of us spoke.
I lay there breathing hard, body trembling weakly against the sheets while shame slowly crept back into the spaces pleasure had temporarily occupied. The silence between us felt heavier afterward somehow. More intimate. More dangerous.

Then his voice came quietly through the phone.
“Good girl.”

The praise hit harder than it should have.

“Rest now,” he continued smoothly. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”

The line disconnected before I could respond.

I stared at the ceiling for several seconds before my phone buzzed again with a new message.

'MEET ME AT LA ROSA NERA TOMORROW. 9:00 AM. NO EXCUSES.'