37. Who Runs This? #2
He smirked, then captured my mouth in a searing kiss, letting me taste myself.
He shifted his hips, lining up with my entrance, and pushed inside in one smooth thrust. I groaned.
He felt incredible hitting every already-lit nerve ending.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, trying to speed him up.
But he kept his pace maddeningly slow and torturous.
“Faster,” I begged, digging my nails into his shoulders.
He ignored me, kept grinding me into the mattress slow, and somewhere under the blood in my ears I caught the song playing, Tank’s Slow, because of course it would be that song.
I’d have laughed at how poetic it was, but I didn’t have a laugh in me.
He was winning, and I could feel how little fight I had left, as the song just sat there agreeing with him.
The pressure built again, slowly, and I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on the friction. I bit back my moans, trying to hide how close I was, knowing he’d stop again if he knew.
“You’re not slick,” he whispered in my ear, sensing the tension in my body. “You can’t hide that from me. Impossible.”
He thrust harder, once, twice, driving me right to the edge, and then… nothing. He stilled, buried but not moving, then pulled out.
I whimpered, frustrated beyond belief. My body was trembling, on the brink again, and he was just holding me there.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked again.
“M-Me,” I gasped, weakly. “I’m in charge.”
He laughed softly. “Stubborn as hell.”
Suddenly, he flipped me. I landed flat on my stomach, the breath knocked out of me. Before I could scramble up, he grabbed my hips and lifted them up, forcing me to arch my back. My ass was in the air, my face pressed into the mattress.
He got up on one knee behind me and entered me again. The angle was intense. He smacked my ass, the sharp sound of it echoing in the room, followed immediately by the sting, then the soothing of his palm rubbing the spot.
“Shiiii!” I cried out.
He rode me hard, pulling my hips back to meet his thrusts, using my body like a yo-yo. I braced myself on my elbows, trying to keep my balance as the bed shook with the force of it.
“Who runs this, Lyss?” he choked out, his rhythm never faltering.
I reached for the only ground I had left. “We both do!” I gasped. “We both… both of us!”
He laughed again. “Counsel wants to settle?”
“Counsel wants to come, Julian!”
He pulled out completely and I collapsed on the bed, a sob of frustration tearing from my throat. I was so close. I was aching and I felt empty without him inside me.
“I knew you were stubborn. But not this stubborn,” he said, his voice full of affection and amusement.
He turned me over onto my back. I was limp, panting, sweaty. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed again. He pushed my legs back, folding them toward my head, opening me up completely.
He stood up and positioned himself at my entrance. He thrust in, deep and relentless, grinding into me, hitting spots that made me see stars. I couldn’t move, pinned by his hands on my thighs, folded in half.
“Please, Julian,” I begged, tears of frustration pricking my eyes. “Please let me come.”
He brought me to the edge again, his pelvis rubbing against my clit with every stroke. I was hovering on the precipice. And then he stopped again.
I screamed, a ragged sound of pure need, and reached down to rub my own clit, desperate to push myself over.
He caught my wrist gently and moved my hand away. “Uh uh.”
“Please!”
“I want you to come, Alyssa,” he said, his voice annoyingly calm. “Just answer the question.”
I shook my head, gasping for air. “No.”
He pulled out and dropped to his knees again. His mouth latched onto my clit, sucking, and I cried out, my back bowing off the bed. It was too much. It was perfect. He licked and sucked, driving me insane, then stopped and stood up, wiping his mouth.
He lifted me effortlessly, moving me back up the bed until my head hit the pillows. I was spent, trembling, my body a live wire of denied pleasure.
He reached for my water bottle. “I told you to drink more water.”
He sat me up, cradling me against his chest, and brought the bottle to my lips. I drank obediently, too tired to fight him. The water cooled my throat, but it did nothing for the fire burning in my veins.
Time had gone liquid. Three songs since Tank, maybe four. I couldn’t have recognized my own name, let alone what songs played next. Couldn’t register anything but the next torturous minute of him keeping me on the edge and pulling back.
He set the bottle down and kissed me, long and sloppy. I melted into him, my hands resting weakly on his chest.
“Julian?” I whispered against his lips.
“Yes, Gorgeous?”
I looked up at him, a weak grin tugging at my mouth. “I know you want to come too.”
He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is that right?”
“Let’s call it a tie,” I suggested. “Finish this and we both get what we want.”
He chuckled, kissing my forehead. “So you’re competing with me, is that what you’re telling me? You know you can’t win, right?”
He kissed me again, then he flipped me back on my hands and knees, pulling my arms back like reins. He entered me from behind, using my arms for leverage, pulling me back onto him as he thrust forward. It was overwhelming, being held down, being used, being completely at his mercy.
“Oh my G—” I half shouted, dropping my head forward. “Julian!”
He rode me hard, his hips slapping against my ass. “Who comes first, Alyssa?”
“I do!” I gasped.
“Who runs this?”
“You do!” I cried out, the pleasure finally breaking down my defenses. “You! All you! It’s yours! You’re in charge! You run it!”
“There she is, my Gorgeous,” he groaned, letting go of my arms and rolling us back over. He lay flat on his back, legs spread, and pulled me on top of him.
“Ride me, Gorgeous. Take what you want.”
I didn’t hesitate. I braced my hands on his thighs and started to bounce. He thrust up to meet me, his hands gripping my hips to guide me.
“That’s it,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “You’re amazing. So beautiful, Lyss. Just like that.”
His words washed over me, combining with the physical sensation to push me higher.
I chased the release I had been denied for so long.
The coil tightened, tighter and tighter, until it finally snapped.
I came with a scream, my body convulsing, my pussy clamping down around him.
The orgasm ripped through me so violently that I started to go limp, my arms and legs giving out.
He didn’t let me fall; he pulled me forward, flattening me against his chest, and thrust up into me, pounding us through it, prolonging the pleasure until I was a sobbing, trembling mess.
I collapsed onto him, completely spent. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. I just lay there, listening to his heart hammering in his chest.
He wrapped his arms around me tight, sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He never let go of me, keeping me cradled in his arms as he stood up and carried me to the bathroom. My legs dangling, my head on his shoulder.
He sat me on the seat near the tub and turned on the faucet. The water rushed out, steam rising into the air. While the tub filled, he grabbed a washcloth from the shelf and ran it under the warm water.
He wiped me down gently, while peppering my shoulders, my neck, and my face with soft, sweet kisses. His touch tender now, the dominance gone, replaced with a deep, caring intimacy.
Somewhere out in the bedroom the music was still going, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a song came clear to me again, the tail end of My Heart Belongs To You by Jodeci.
I didn’t know how many songs had played while I was gone out of my own head.
But I caught this one, coming back to myself in his arms with the water running.
It felt less like a song that happened to be on and more like something the room had decided to say for me.
“You mad at me?” he asked softly, his lips brushing my ear.
I turned my head to look at him. I tried to glare, but I was too satisfied to pull it off.
I gave him a look that said you are impossible, and he laughed, as he stood up with me in his arms, then lowered me into the tub.
The warm water enveloped me, soothing my aching muscles.
I sighed, sinking down until the water covered my shoulders.
He sat on the edge of the tub, watching me like there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t.
I looked up at him, my heart feeling so full it might burst. I love this man. So much. I thought to myself. The truest thing in the room sat there in the steam between us, unsaid, and I didn’t reach for it, didn’t manage it, didn’t need to call it out loud to be sure of it.
I closed my eyes and let him bathe me.