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She brings them to her mouth, sniffing first, and then her tongue darts out to get a taste. My balls clench and I fist my cock. I want that tongue on me. So. Fucking. Bad.

Leaning back, her legs part wider, and she uses her other hand to spread her folds. The fingers she licked drag down her chest and toy with her nipple. It’s a move I’m not expecting, and if it weren’t for the curious spark in her eye, I’d think she was putting on a show for me.

There’s no artifice to it at all.

“How does it feel?” I ask, barely able to choke out the words.

Her eyes flutter shut. “Good.”

“Look at me when you touch yourself.”

Her eyes open, green and clear.

“What feels good?”

“When I rub my clit.” She does it again, hips rising up, giving me a better view of her pretty pussy.

I’m still standing in the middle of the room, struck absolutely fucking dumb as I stroke myself. “Your fingers,” I tell her, my voice dropping an octave. “Use them to fuck yourself.”

Her nose wrinkles, but she pushes in one finger. Her hips rise and fall as she fucks in and out, and I try desperately to remember all those things I’d fantasized about while in prison. I can’t. They pale in comparison to the reality of her squirming hips and flushed skin. I get this thought that I need to taste every inch of her. Every freckle. Every scar. Every milky, smooth swath of flesh.

I want to fucking devour her.

“Another,” I command, my cock twitching eagerly. “Two fingers.”

She takes a deep breath and adds her middle finger, the knuckle disappearing as it sinks inside.

I rake my lip through my teeth. “Three.”

She grinds her head back into the couch, brows knitted tightly together. “I can’t.”

I grip my cock in my hand and say, “Trust me, Rosi. You can take three.”

Her throat bobs with a swallow but she inserts a third. Her ring finger. I see the way she curves them, pushing at her walls—against her boundaries. Chip by chip, I’ll make them fall.

While she stares at me, her body writhes on the leather couch, rising and falling as she fucks into her body. I put all my attention on her, forgetting my own painful desires, and watch her build and build, until her breath stutters, coming out in tight little gasps. She pushes and pulls at her breasts, leaving red marks from the rough handling of her skin. She climbs, nearing that edge and I lean forward, circling my fingers around her wrist.

Roughly, I yank her hand back.

“What?” Her eyes are wide, glazed, hips moving to chase the vanished heat. “What the hell?!”

I skate my fingertip up the slickness on her own fingers. “Not yet.”

“But…” Her lips work soundlessly around her protest before, “Why not?!”

Her body is on fire. I can see it. Smell it. The scent of her dripping pussy thick in the room. I raise my hand, licking out to catch a taste of her wetness. “You know what I want.”

Her eyes drop down to where my cock is hanging obscenely out of my sweats.

I snort. “You’re really one-track when you’re horny, aren’t you.” Shaking my head, I tower over her, between her spread thighs, and grip the back of the couch, gazing down into her frustrated eyes. “Tell me you want my baby in you.”

Her expression immediately shutters. “No.”

Shrugging, I nod at her fingers. “Then do it again. Start with one.”

Her jaw tightens. She understands the game I’m playing here, and when she reaches down to emotionlessly insert a finger into herself, I sense how she means to play it.

“Two,” I say, watching as she adds her middle finger, and then, when I command it, her ring finger. She’s not on the edge anymore, her mind pushing her body back from the brink, knowing now what the cost of going over it will be.