Page 21 of Bitter When He Begs

I drag my thumb across his bottom lip slowly, watching the way his breath stutters at the contact. “You’re quiet now,” I murmur, tilting my head, lips brushing just barely over his jaw. “Where’s all that fight you had earlier, Sunshine?”

He sucks in a breath, but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

I see it all over him. Flushed cheeks, damp lashes, the way he still can’t stop trembling. He’s still hard, too. Not fully, not likebefore—but enough to make him twitch when I slide my hands down his sides and grip his hips again, holding him still.

“You liked that way too much.” I press my mouth to his throat, dragging my tongue slowly across his flushed skin. “I could do it again right now. Rub you raw until you’re crying. You’d fucking take it, wouldn’t you?”

His only answer is a stuttered exhale, his nails curling again into my chest. God, I fucking love this. Love how much he wants to deny me and just… can’t.

I move, flipping us with a quick jerk of my hips and a hand braced on his back. He lets out a startled gasp as his back hits the mattress, his arms flailing for half a second before I pin his wrists above his head.

His glasses go crooked, and he’s glaring up at me now, breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. But his legs fall open, and that just shows how easy he is for me.

Throwing his glasses to the side, I press my knee between his thighs and grind it up against the mess in his sweats. He jerks, a strangled sound catching in his throat as his hips twitch up, instinct chasing friction he shouldn’t want anymore.

“You’re so easy for me, Sage,” I whisper, leaning down until my chest brushes his, the heat between us damn near unbearable. “One touch, and you fall apart.”

“I hate you,” he whispers.

I grin against his skin. “I know, that’s what makes this fun.”

He turns his head, trying to look away, but I follow, kissing his cheek, his jaw, nipping his throat again until I feel him twitch under me. Until he’s whining, the kind of sound that grips my cock in a vise.

I slide my hands down, gripping the waistband of his sweats and tugging them down just enough to pull out his cock. He gasps and tries to twist away, but I don’t let him.

“I’m not done looking at you,” I growl, my eyes dragging down the flushed line of his body, the mess between his thighs. His pretty cock is still half-hard, twitching like it might come back to life again, but I’m not after that right now.

I’m after mine.

I settle back, straddling his thighs, watching his face as I shove my waistband low and pull my cock out, already hard, already leaking from watching him fall apart once. I gather up some of his cum and wrap a hand around myself, not even fucking subtle.

His breath stutters. “What are you—”

“You wanna watch?” I murmur, my hand moving slowly over the length of my cock, dragging slick from the tip and spreading it down. “Too fucked out to keep up with me, huh? Guess I’ll finish myself right here on you.”

His eyes go wide, but it’s not fear—it’s raw need. Pure heat. The kind of look that shoots straight to my cock. “Luca… fuck,” he breathes, his voice cracking. “You’re—”

“Hard for you?” I cut in, my hand moving faster, hips stuttering now. “Yeah. No shit. Look at you. Laid out like a little offering, covered in cum with your pride all busted up. You think I could walk away from this without jerking off? You’re lucky I’m not fucking you.”

I stroke myself faster, watching the way his eyes drop to my hand, then flicker back up to meet mine. His lips part, chest heaving, and I know. Right then, I know I could ask anything of him in this moment, and he’d do it.

But I don’t need to ask, because Sage already gave me his dignity.

Now I’m taking the rest.

“Look at me,” I growl and his eyes snap back to mine. “Keep watching. Don’t you fucking look away.”

He does.

Good boy.

I grip my cock tighter, strokes faster now, sweat trickling down my temple as I stare down at the brat who’s been driving me insane since the day he walked into my locker room with that smart mouth and those judgmental eyes. The same brat who’s panting now, cheeks flushed, arms shaking, legs spread and waiting for me to lose it.

And fuck, do I lose it.

I come hard, biting down a groan as I spill across his upper thighs and cock, painting his skin in long, messy stripes. I keep my eyes locked on his face as I do it, watching the way his lips part in shock, how wide his eyes go, how used he looks with my mess across his cock and his ruined pride scattered all over the sheets.

He doesn’t say a word through all this.