“Please,” you whine. Nothing could sound sweeter, and even if it might be enough to make him give in under any other circumstances, a part of him wants nothing more than to tease and rile you up further.

Raising a brow in response, a smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. “You said you wanted to ride me, is this all you’ve got?” It’s a taunt, followed by a flash of teeth as his grin spreads.

There’s an undeniable ache inside you. No matter how hard you roll your hips or grind yourself down against the cock stretching you, stroking along every inch of your sensitive, slick walls, nothing seems to be enough to push you over the edge. The coil in your belly grows tighter, straining with the need to snap. Euphoria sits right at your fingertips, and you know that with the slightest extra touch, you’d fall into it completely, feel it pulse through every inch of you the same way you feel him pulsing inside you.

For as cocky as he acts, he can’t hide that part, you feel how he responds, how even a small squeeze makes his thighs flex beneath you as he fights the urge to thrust up. You know he wants to, and maybe, if you push him just enough, hit all the right buttons, he’ll give you exactly what you’re chasing.

His head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing as a low, restrained sound rumbles from his throat. His eyes close, and you take the chance to sneak a hand down between your bodies, hoping that with just a little extra help, you might finally find your release.

It’s quick. He catches you instantly, eyes snapping open, and clicking his tongue in disapproval. “No hands, remember?” A brow lifts again, this time paired with a firmer tone, the teasing edge replaced with something more commanding. “Back on me.”

You obey, placing your hands back on his shoulders, partly for balance, partly because he wants to keep you exactly where you are, teetering on the edge, denied the release you so desperately crave. You feel yourself growing slicker with every drag of him inside you, the wet sound between your bodies growing louder.

He hums under his breath, amused, satisfied, far too aware of the torment he’s putting you through, and enjoying every second of it.

“Is that all you can do, baby?” His voice drops, soft and coaxing, sending a ripple down your spine and between your thighs, only intensifying the ache.

“Yes…” you whisper, breathless, needy.

His gaze drifts over you, your chest rising and falling, listening to the way your breath stutters as you try to pick up your pace, only to falter the moment you get too close. He sees it clearly, you need more, you need him, and he’s determined to make you say it.

“Look at you…” he croons. Your fingers flex against his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. “So desperate to cum, but you can’t… because you need me.”

A retort sits on the tip of your tongue, something bratty and defiant, but it dies there, caught between pride and the overwhelming need building inside you.

“Say it…” he murmurs, smirking as he tilts his head. Your hips slow, your eyes locking onto his. “Tell me you need me to make you cum.”

You huff, dragging your nails down his tatted chest, earning a sharp hiss as his muscles tense beneath your touch. You know he’s holding back—barely.

“No,” you snap, a stubborn edge to your voice, your mouth tilting upward in defiance. Bratty, exactly how he likes you.

His eyes darken slightly, a flash of excitement rousing behind them. “No? Mm… I think someone’s lying.”

You shake your head, refusing to break, even when he starts to roll his hips up into you. Especially then.

“You don’t need me?” he presses. “Don’t need me to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress right now?” He leans forward, breaking his own rule, lips brushing along your collarbone and up your neck as his hands slide along your thighs, settling firmly at your hips.

“Just say it, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and coaxing. “Tell me you need me to make you cum, and I’ll do it right now.”

Your resolve begins to crumble under the warmth of his mouth, the pressure inside you unbearable now, insistent, and impossible to ignore. You need it. You need him.

“I need you…” you breathe, the last of your resistance slipping away.

“Say it again.”

There’s always a catch, but right now, you don’t care.

“I need you to make me cum,” you whine softly.

He smirks against your skin, lips brushing your ear. “Louder.”

This time you make a meek attempt to beg, hips bucking against him, desperate, needy, proving your point in every frantic movement. You’ll give him whatever he wants if it means finally getting to cum. He makes you repeat it again and again, dragging it out until you’re begging, the words falling from your lips without hesitation, and only then does he finally give in.

Flipping you both over, his hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against him as he drives deeper, the shift forcing a moan from both of you.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “See what a good little brat you can be.”

Any retort you might have is swallowed by his kiss as he finally fulfills his promise, drawing back and thrusting into you with a rhythm that steals your breath, forcing you to feed moans into his mouth as he keeps going, relentless, refusing to stop, even as your walls tighten and you cum around him.

All he craves is more, wanting nothing more than to keep going until you’re completely undone, creaming around him, until he has you filled, all while serving as an appropriate lesson; a reminder that you’re always going to need him to cum.

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