Page 22 of Bitter When He Begs

I sit back slowly, licking my lips as I look down at the mess I left on him. His skin flushed, chest heaving, my cum cooling across his dick and dripping down the inside of his thighs.

Fucking perfect.

I slide my hand down and drag two fingers through our cum on his cock, and his breath hitches. I lift my fingers and press them against his lips. “Open.”

He shakes his head, biting down hard on a noise that betrays just how fucking gone he is.

I grin. “That’s cute,” I murmur. “You still think you’ve got a choice.”

He glares, chest still rising too fast. “I fucking hate you.”

“You’ve said that before,” I say, dragging my fingers down and smearing the mess across his cheek. “Is that why you came without a single hand on your cock? That why you’re still here, still under me, still letting me play with you?”

Sage makes a wounded sound and tries to twist away, but I grab his wrists with one hand and pin him harder.

“You want to fight?” I growl, letting the words scrape raw against his skin. “Go ahead. But it won’t change shit. You’re mine. You’ll be mine tomorrow and the day after that, and every fucking time someone else so much as looks at you, they’re gonna know it.”

My voice drops, darker now, dead fucking serious. “You belong to me, Sage. You belong tothis.To the way I look at you and the way I can break you down to a mess with just my voice and a grind of my hips.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, like that’ll stop the heat from flooding his body. Like that’ll stop his cock from twitching, already trying to come back to life even after everything.

I press my lips against the mess on his cheek. Kiss him there like I’m sealing a fucking claim.

And then I murmur right against his ear—

“Say thank you.”

He jerks under me, breath catching, muscles locking up, and I stay right there, still pinning him, my voice low and smug and dripping with control.

“Say it, Sage.”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat and clenches his jaw, his eyes darting away. And then, so quiet, so broken and shameful—

“…Thank you.”

I smile slowly. “Good boy.”

I lean back just enough to look at him again, still pinning his wrists with one hand, still straddling his hips, watching his chest rise too fast. Sweat clings to his neck, his jaw clenched like it’s the only thing keeping him from moaning. His thighs twitch where I just dragged my fingers through the mess we made.

Ours.

That thought alone sends a rush straight to my cock.

I hum, dragging my middle and ring fingers through it again—thicker now, cooling slightly on his thighs—and this time, Igather more. Sage’s breath hitches and tries not to react, like he still has some part of him left to protect. He doesn’t. I’ve already taken it.

He watches me with wild eyes, his lips parted, his whole body radiating tension. He knows what I want, and he knows I’m going to take it.

So when his mouth opens just slightly, whether to curse or gasp or argue, I don’t wait. I shove my fingers past his lips, straight to the back of his throat.

Sage chokes, instinctively trying to pull his head back, but I grab his jaw with my other hand and keep him still. My fingers press past his tongue, far enough to make his throat clench and his eyes flutter wide in surprise. He gags around them, and fuck, the sound that rips from him makes my spent cock twitch again.

“Breathe through it,” I murmur, my voice low and breath hot against his cheek. “That’s it, Sunshine. Take it.”

He whimpers and I fuck my fingers into his mouth with slow, shallow thrusts, listening to every wet gag, and watching the way his throat bobs when he tries to swallow around me. His eyes lock on mine—glassier now, desperate—and fuck,fuck,he doesn’t even know how perfectly ruined he looks.

“Keep sucking. Show me how grateful you are.”

I feel the way his throat contracts again, that gorgeous spasm of muscle and resistance, and I keep my fingers right there, fucking them against the back of his tongue, watching the way his body panics and submits all at once. His lashes flutter, his chest stuttering with a sound that’s caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan.