#is write

You nod, and you hear him hum with satisfaction. “So close,” he murmurs, and it’s only then that his grasp tightens on your wrist, and he says, with quiet, commanding authority. “No.”

You squirm and whimper, desperate for release, but you don’t fight him.

“It’s better,” he says. “Isn’t it better when I make you wait?”

“Yes,” you answer, because it is, but that doesn’t make it any easier, not when his hand is sliding down to trace gently over your breasts, fingertips circling your nipples, one side and then the other.

You shift fretfully, because you never know how long he’ll keep you on the edge of it, but tonight, it seems, he’s feeling generous. “There,” he says. “Now.”

And your fingers are swiftly back exactly where you need them, and you’re coming, body tensing up as you cry out, Trent whispering fierce in your ear: that you’re beautiful, that you’re his, all his, and that he won’t let you go, not ever.

Aftershocks spark over your skin as he raises your hand to his lips, licking your fingers, sucking them clean, and when he’s done he grips your chin, turning your head towards him, kissing you. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and all you can think is that you need more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out, hoarse. “Please, I need you to fuck me.” You know he wants it, his cock pressed hard against the top of your ass, but you also know he can wait. It’s unnerving, sometimes, the way he can hold himself back, his composure never faltering for even a moment as he watches you come undone, over and over and over.

“No,” he says. “Oh, no.”

“Please,” you beg.

“You need to show me you can come again,” he tells you. “And then, perhaps, if you’re good.”

“I can’t,” you say, but he guides your hand back down between your legs.

“Just focus,” he says, softly. “Let me see you.”