Chapter 125 125. Begging For More
"You manipulated me." My voice was unsteady. "That's cheating. I don't normally sound like that."
He pulled his hands from under my shirt, spinning me around to face him. I was left standing there with clenched thighs while he washed his hands in the sink. All the while, his eyes never left mine. That smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Or maybe," he reached for a towel, "you're just looking for an excuse to get me to continue."
"Well," I blushed "...is that bad?"
He stepped closer, until his chest was pressed against mine. His gaze darkened as he looked down at me, at my thighs pressed together from the ache he'd created and abandoned.
Holding my waist, his nose nuzzled my neck as his hands roamed over my back. His breath was hot against my ear as he continued in his low, gruff voice,
"You are so receptive to every touch, aren't you? That's a good girl..."
I whimpered, grabbing his shirt before I lost my balance.
"But I wonder... how many moans would it take before you start begging for more?"
"Shut up." Even though his words made me shiver. One moment I was standing, the next, I was on the counter, thanks to his strong hands. Cold granite shocked through the thin fabric of my skirt.
"Or would you try to deny it, just like you denied making that sound before?" He nuzzled my neck again, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin. His voice was even huskier now, tinged with a hint of playfulness. "You want to lie to me again, honey?"
His roaming hands disappeared underneath the hem of my skirt, cupping my soaked mound.
"Lucien..." I gasped at the feather light touch.
"Say my name again baby... You are only fueling my need for you..." His finger formed circles against my crotch.
My muscles grew tighter, my breaths coming in soft pants. I need more than a finger graze, I need strokes, thrusts, and that underwear was getting in the way.
"Take it off me, Lucien..."
He nipped at my earlobe, "I see someone wants more than just my hands, don't you, sweetheart?"
In one rough motion, he flipped up my skirt and tore aside the flimsy fabric beneath, exposing me completely. His breath hitched at the sight, pupils blown wide-
"Dio mio... così perfetta..." he growled in Italian, gripping my thighs to spread them wider against the marble edge. "Keep them open for me, baby."
He stepped back and just stood there, drinking in the sight of me spread open on his counter. I fought the urge to close my legs, to rub them together for relief from this throbbing ache. His intense gaze, the slight part of his lips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath-you better fuck me now, Mr. Hayes.
His watch hit the counter first. Then his fingers found what remained of his shirt buttons, popping them free one by one. The fabric fell open, revealing the smoothest, sexiest ribs ever.
He left the shirt hanging open, sleeves already rolled to his elbows from cooking. He pressed against my core, feeling the heat, the wetness, the desire.
Then his hot mouth was on me, tongue licking a sinful stripe up my slit before sealing over my clit with filthy suction.
"Fuck!" My back arched off the counter as I cried out, fingers immediately fisting in his hair.
"That's it... Moan for me, Fiera..." he commanded against my slick flesh, two fingers suddenly plunging deep to curl just right.
The wet squelch echoed between me as he fucked me with his fingers, mouth never leaving my clit. The dual sensation made coherent thought impossible. My thighs trembled around his head as that telltale flutter began deep inside.
"Oh, no, no, shit," more breathless curses spilled from my lips.
Right there, right at the edge-He pulled away.
"No!" The word tore out of me. "What are you-you can't just-"
He straightened, slowly licking and savoring his slick lips.
"That's what you get for lying to me, Fiera." That infuriating smirk was back in full force as he licked his fingers clean.
"You absolute bastard." I was still shaking, still desperate. "Finish what you started."
"Hm, I don't think I will." He turned, walking toward the living room like he hadn't just left me trembling and aching.
I slid down, the counter cold under my palms. My legs felt like jelly, but fury and need drove me forward. I took off my shirt and skirt and the sound of falling to the floor made him turn.
His cock jumped in his pants, smirk twitching. With that look of raw, unadulterated hunger and desire, he crooked his index finger in a slow beckon-a silent command that brooked no refusal.
I dropped to my hands and knees.
"Fuck," he breathed.