Page 58 of Held-
“Fuck, princess,” he mutters, his voice low, hungry. His fingers work quickly, undoing the clasp of my bra.
“Don’t be gentle,” I tell him. “I don’t need gentle right now.”
Something flickers across his face—not surprise, but something deeper. Recognition. He knows what this is. Knows what I’m asking without having to say more.
“Then I won’t be,” he says, voice rough from restraint.
Before I can draw another breath, he drops to his knees in front of me. My words falter. His hands grip my thighs with quiet command. He looks up, gaze steady, a wicked curve on his mouth that sends a fresh flush of heat through me.
“Hold onto something,” he warns.
I barely have time to grip the edge of the counter before he yanks my jeans and underwear down in one rough motion. The cold surface against my bare skin makes me gasp, but that soundis nothing compared to the moan that tears from my throat when his mouth finds me.
There's no teasing, no gentle exploration. He devours me, his tongue hot and relentless against my most sensitive flesh. I arch my back, one hand flying to his hair, gripping the dark strands between my fingers.
“Oh God,” I breathe, my head falling back as his tongue circles my clit in tight, knowing patterns.
He growls against me, the vibration jolting up my spine. His hands grip my thighs harder, keeping me open, exposed to his hungry mouth. I can feel his stubble scraping against my inner thighs, the slight burn only heightening every sensation.
“Brayden,” I pant, not sure what I’m begging for.
He responds by sliding two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that makes my vision blur. The pleasure is almost unbearable as his mouth claims me completely. My thighs tremble against his shoulders, and I'm gasping for air like I've forgotten how to breathe. Every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside me—it's pushing me toward something I desperately need.
“Don't stop,” I beg, my voice hardly recognizable. “Please don't stop.”
He looks up at me without breaking rhythm as his mouth works me over. The sight of him between my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge.
“Don’t fucking come yet,” he says against my flesh. The command sends a sharp thrill through me, a counter to the desperate need building between my thighs. I want to disobey just to see what he'd do. To know how he’d punish me for defying him.
“Please,” I whimper instead, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He growls against me, the vibration making me shudder. “Not yet. I want you desperate first.”
His fingers slow inside me, dragging against my walls with deliberate pressure while his tongue makes lazy circles that drive me insane. He's building me up only to keep me on the edge, and the frustration is exquisite.
“Brayden,” I moan, trying to pull him closer with my thighs.
He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating against my core. “Patience, princess.” His free hand comes up to press against my stomach, holding me in place as I try to rock against his mouth. “You wanted it rough? Then you take what I give you, when I give it.”
A shiver runs through me, sweat collecting on my skin even in the cool air. Every nerve ending is on fire, my body strung so tight I might shatter at any moment. I need release like I need air, but he keeps me suspended in this sweet agony.
“Look at me,” he demands, pausing his assault on my senses.
I force my eyes open, gazing down at him between my thighs. His eyes are dark with hunger, his lips glistening with my arousal. The sight of him looking up at me makes me dizzy with need.
“Beg for it,” he says, the words a low rumble that vibrates through me. “I want to hear you beg for me to let you come.”
In my old life, I would have been mortified. The proper preacher’s daughter doesn’t beg for pleasure—she doesn’t even admit to wanting it. But I left that woman behind in my father’s house.
“Please,” I breathe, the sound breaking as need overtakes me. “Please let me come, Brayden. I need it. I need you.”
He holds my gaze for one more torturous moment, then his mouth is on me again, relentless now. His fingers curl inside me, finding that perfect spot while his tongue flicks over my clit with devastating precision. The pleasure builds so fast it's almostpainful, a white-hot surge that crashes through me with brutal force.
I come with a scream, my body convulsing around his fingers, against his mouth. He doesn't let up until I'm gasping for mercy, my hands pushing weakly at his shoulders.
Before I can catch my breath, he rises to his feet, finishing unbuckling his belt with a quick swipe of his hand. His jeans hit the floor, and he's on me in an instant, lifting me off the counter and spinning me around, bending me over. I barely have time to brace myself before he's pushing inside me with one powerful thrust.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “You're so wet for me.”