Chapter Sixty
Frederic
I grip her chin a little tighter, tilting her face up towards mine, forcing her to hold my gaze.
She looks utterly wrecked - lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes still hazy with pleasure.
But there’s something else there, too.
Something defiant. Something that challenges me.
Like she’s proud of herself. Like she thinks she has the upper hand because she made me come first.
No. Fuck that.
I smirk, running my thumb along her lower lip, watching as her breath hitches.
"You look so pretty like this," I murmur, my voice smooth, dangerous. "On your knees for me. Taking everything I give you."
She blinks up at me, her lips parting just slightly, still waiting for whatever I decide to do next.
And fuck , does that do something to me .
I lean down, pressing my lips against the corner of her mouth, dragging them slowly along her jaw.
"You think that was enough?" I ask. Her breath shudders. "You think I’m done with you?"
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I chuckle.
"Stand up," I command.
She blinks, a little dazed, but she listens, rising to her feet, smoothing down the fabric of her dress.
But before she can get too steady, I grip her waist.
And in one swift motion, I spin her around and press her hard against the door, my body flush against hers, my mouth at her ear.
"You want to act like a brat , Poppy?" I murmur, sliding my hand up her thigh, pushing the hem of her dress higher, higher.
She gasps.
"You want to tease me ?"
My fingers slip between her legs, brushing against the soaked lace of her panties, and I groan, my grip tightening.
"Then I think it’s only fair," I mutter, lips brushing the shell of her ear, "that I make you beg for it."
I press against her harder, my cock already stirring back to life at the feeling of her, the smell of her, the way her body molds against mine so fucking perfectly.
Her hands fly to the door in front of her, bracing herself.
"Freddie -"
"No," I cut her off, gripping her hips and rocking against her just enough to make her whimper. "Not yet. "
My fingers trace the curve of her hips, slipping beneath the fabric of her dress, dragging it up inch by inch until it’s bunched around her waist.
She whimpers, shifting against me, but I don’t let her move an inch.
"Be patient ," I tell her, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, "or I’ll have to tie you up and teach you some restraint."
My fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, dragging them slowly down her thighs, taking my sweet fucking time.
Poppy squirms, her breath uneven, her body so responsive beneath my touch.
I drag my lips along her exposed shoulder, taking my time, enjoying the way she trembles against me, the way her hands press against the door like she needs to hold onto something -
Like she knows she’s about to lose control.
My hands slip lower, gripping her thighs, spreading them apart just slightly, just enough to make her ache.
She shifts her weight, her breath shaky as I slide a hand between her thighs.
My fingers brush against her soaked, bare skin, and I can’t help but groan at the evidence of just how much she wants this.
" Fuck ," I hiss. "Already so wet for me."
I inhale the scent of her - the sweetness, the heat, the desperation - and her fingers tighten against the door.
"You were made for this," I whisper.
Then, without warning, I thrust my fingers deep inside her.
She cries out, her back arching, her body jerking against me as my other hand pins her waist to the door.
"That’s it," I murmur, thrusting again, harder and deeper.
I watch closely at the way her body moves; the way she gasps, the way her thighs tremble beneath my touch.
"You wanted to tease me, didn’t you?"
Her forehead presses against the cool surface of the door, her nails scraping against it.
I chuckle darkly at the sight of her crumbling like this.
I curl my fingers inside her just the way that she likes, finding that perfect fucking spot and pressing into it with ease, repeating the motion again and again and again.
"Freddie, I -"
"Ah, ah," I say, pressing my lips against her ear. "That’s not what I want to hear."
Her body tenses, her thighs clenching around my hand, and I feel tremors coursing through her, feel how she’s so close to the edge -
But I stop.
My fingers still, and she gasps.
My body is pressed so hard against her that I know she can feel every inch of me, every fucking ounce of my restraint, but I have to see her.
" Freddie -"
I pull back slightly and grip her chin, forcing her to look at me over her shoulder, and she quiets immediately.
I drink her in, my eyes greedy as they dance over her pretty face. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted and her pupils blown wide with desire .
Fuck .
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
"You don’t get to come yet, mon ange ," I murmur, my grip tightening. "Not until you beg for it."
She shudders, and I raise a brow.
"Be a good girl, and ask me nicely."
Her breath is uneven, her body trembling beneath my hands.
I watch her, taking in every little detail - the tension in her jaw, the way her chest rises and falls too quickly, the way her fingers twitch against the door like she’s fighting herself.
I can see it. The struggle.
She’s stubborn. Proud , even. And she doesn’t want to give in.
But she will.
Because I don’t lose - especially not with her.
I tilt her chin up higher, forcing her to meet my gaze. I brush my thumb over her lower lip, my fingers still buried inside her, still pressing against that perfect, devastating spot.
"You don’t want to beg?" I ask, my voice low and taunting.
She swallows hard, her breath catching - but still, she doesn’t speak.
I smirk as I drag my fingers out of her, knowing that I’m leaving her achingly empty.
She gasps, her hips jerking forward, chasing the friction; but I simply grip tighter to her waist, keeping her still.
"No, Poppy," I murmur. "You wanted to be a brat , remember?"
A frustrated, desperate whimper escapes her throat, and I lean forwards in order to press a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Now, beg ."
Her body is so hot, so needy , but still, she’s fighting me - fighting herself .
I press another kiss just below her ear, my tongue flicking against her pulse.
"Beg me to let you come, mon ange ," I whisper, my lips brushing against her skin.
She whimpers, barely able to hold on.
But still, she says nothing.
So, I step back completely.
She gasps, instantly missing my touch. Her body moves on pure instinct as her thighs press together, desperate for relief.
But I deny her.
Instead, I keep stepping away until I’m able to lean back against the table, folding my arms across my chest and tilting my head slightly.
I watch her, and I let her squirm.
"Not feeling so smug anymore, are you, sweetheart?" I muse.
She turns her head, glaring at me over her shoulder. Her breathing is ragged, her entire body coiled tight, her thighs pressing together in desperate search of relief -
But I won’t let her have it. Not yet.
Not until she begs .
I watch her wrestle with herself, torn between stubborn defiance and pure, unfiltered need.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life .
“Go on,” I taunt. “You’re almost there.”
Her fingers curl into fists against the door as if she’s trying to ground herself against its surface, as if she’s trying to cling to some kind of control.
But there’s nothing she can do to stop this. Nothing she can do to stop me .
I drag my gaze down her body, taking my time, letting my eyes linger over the way her dress is still pushed up, revealing her arse and her wet pussy to me from a delicious angle; the way her skin is still flushed and warm -
The way she’s still so fucking ready for me.
When my gaze flickers back up, she’s already looking at me.
Her dark eyes burn with frustration, with need - with something dangerously close to surrender - and I raise a brow.
“Well?”
“You’re an arsehole,” she spits.
I chuckle, completely unaffected.
“I know.”
She clenches her jaw, her entire body tense, vibrating with resistance.
For a moment, I think she might hold out longer - that she might keep fighting me on this.
But then, she snaps.
Her hands slap against the door, her nails scraping against the wood as her head falls forwards. When she speaks, her voice breaks, and she finally, finally begs.
“ Please , Freddie. ”
Fucking hell .
My cock throbs, but I’m not going to give into her that easily.
“Please what ?” I demand.
Her head turns over her shoulder so that she’s half looking at me, half looking away - like she can’t stand the weight of my gaze, like she already knows she’s lost.
I step forwards and reach for her, my fingers tracing the curve of her waist, my nails grazing her bare skin just to make her shudder.
“I’m a man of many talents, Poppy, but unfortunately, I can’t read your mind,” I murmur, my lips brushing against the back of her neck. “You’re going to have to use your words if you want something from me.”
She presses back against me, her nails biting into the door, her entire body bowing for me.
“ Please ,” she breathes again, her voice barely above a whisper.
It won’t do, though.
She’s going to have to learn.
I tighten my grip on her waist as I press my lips to the shell of her ear, my teeth grazing against her soft, sensitive skin.
“Please what , Poppy?”
Her breath hitches, and finally , she breaks.
"Please, Freddie," she whispers, her voice soft, desperate, ruined. "Please, make me come."
And just like that, I’ve won.
A growl rumbles deep in my chest, my fingers flexing against her waist as heat surges through me, raw and demanding.
She asked so sweetly. So perfectly .
So fucking ruined .
I suppose she deserves her reward.
“Good girl,” I murmur before my lips press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her throat.
Her body near enough melts against me as her hands continue to grip the door.
It’s like she already knows that she’s about to fall apart. That I’m about to wreck her.
I move fast - one hand gripping her hip, the other slipping lower, fingers brushing over her slit. She gasps, her back arching and her nails scraping against the surface as she presses back against me, seeking more, needing more.
I slide my fingers against her cunt, testing and feeling how she’s already so hot and wet for me.
I know that should drive me insane. That it should push me over the edge.
But instead, I feel calm.
Focused.
Because right now, in this moment, she belongs to me - and I’m going to make sure she never forgets it.
I press my lips to her ear, my fingers sliding between her thighs over and over again, stroking, circling and pressing. Her hips buck against my hand, desperate for more, but I drag it out as long as possible, enjoying the desperate sounds that slip from her lips -
And then I sink my fingers inside her.
She cries out, her body jerking and her lips parting in a breathless, shattered moan.
Merde .
She’s so tight, so hot, so fucking perfect .
Her thighs tremble as her hips roll, her fingers scraping against the door as I move inside her, slow but deep. My fingers push and press and curl, and I grin to myself as I drag out her pleasure.
She’s sensitive. Overstimulated.
And fuck, I love it.
She bites her lip, a choked whimper escaping her throat, and I smirk against her skin.
“What’s the matter, mon ange ?” I murmur, my pace quickening, my thumb pressing firm circles against her wet clit.
She gasps, her legs wobbling, her nails biting into the wood.
I tighten my grip, holding her up and refusing to let her escape - refusing to let her run from what I’m doing to her.
“Can’t handle it?” I ask.
She whimpers as she shakes her head. Her hips continue to buck and roll into my hand, seeking more .
But I’m not done with her yet.
Not until she begs again.
I slow my movements, my fingers curling inside her, pressing against that perfect spot, teasing her just enough to drive her insane.
She gasps, her body locking up, her breathing ragged, her frustration palpable.
I smirk, dragging my lips over her jaw, pressing soft, slow kisses along the column of her throat.
“You want to come for me?” I ask. “Want to come right now, on my fingers?”
She nods frantically, her head tipping back, her body trembling; but I let out a disappointed tsk.
“What did I say about using your words, Poppy?” I remind her. “ Tell me .”
She groans, frustration evident in the sound as her hands fist against the door, her body practically vibrating with need.
“Freddie, I’m not -”
“Tell me, Poppy,” I demand, thrusting my fingers deeper.
The action causes her to cry out and arch further into me, writhing against me as her resolve breaks.
“ Please -”
“Please what ?”
Her breathing is ragged, her fingers trembling.
“Please, let me come for you. Let me come all over your fingers.”
My smirk deepens, satisfaction curling hot and sinful inside me.
“That’s my girl.”
And with that, I give her everything.
My fingers move faster and deeper, my thumb circling her clit as my mouth presses against her throat.
I groan as I feel her walls flutter around me - clenching and tightening and pulling me further in - and as I press against her most sensitive spot once more in time with her clit, she finally shatters.
Her cry is sharp as her body tenses. She arches back, shaking as her walls clench and release repeatedly around my fingers. I don’t stay still - no, I keep moving them in and out of her, and her entire body convulses as I drag her through the waves of pleasure until she slumps against me, boneless and panting.
I pull my fingers out of her slowly, letting the last of her pleasure ripple through her, making sure she feels every last second of it.
Then, with a satisfied smirk, I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick them clean.
She watches, her breath still unsteady, her lips parting in undisguised hunger.
I chuckle, tilting her chin up so she’s forced to look at me.
“ That ,” I tell her, my voice thick with satisfaction, “is what happens when you tease me.”
She’s still catching her breath, her eyes hazy with pleasure, and fuck - she looks wrecked .
Completely and utterly undone.
But has she learned?
I tighten my grip on her waist, keeping her pressed against me and making sure she still feels me - feels what she does to me, what she’s been doing since the second I laid eyes on her outside of that godforsaken airport.
Her lashes flutter, her pupils still blown wide, and then, she smirks.
Fucking smirks .
My jaw tightens, and I slide my hand slowly down the front of her thigh before dragging my fingers between her legs.
She gasps, her hands gripping tighter against the door as I press my palm against her still-sensitive heat .
Her body jolts, her hips jerking, but I don’t move away.
Not yet. Not until I’ve reminded her exactly who she belongs to.
I lean in, brushing my lips against her ear.
“Have you learned your lesson, mon ange ?”
A soft, unsteady exhale escapes her lips, but as she tilts her chin up, I swear that something flashes in her eyes. Something bold - something defiant.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
My patience snaps , and I grab the fabric of her dress, yanking it higher over her hips as my hand slides firmly beneath, my fingers finding bare, hot, wet skin. She’s still bent at the waist and pressed against the door, and she arches into my touch.
“Poppy,” I grind out. “Do you need another lesson?”
Her breath stutters, and my smirk sharpens.
I watch as her nails bite into the door, and then, she nods.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Fuck. Of course she wants me to ruin her all over again.
“You never learn, do you?” I say as I slide my fingers against her, spreading her open, feeling just how fucking drenched she still is for me.
“Maybe,” she breathes, tilting her head to the side and batting her lashes at me.
I raise my hand and bring it down against her arse, the resounding slap filling the air between us.
She gasps, the sound sharp and loud, and I grin.
"Careful," I tell her. "I didn’t ask you to speak. "
And then, just when I think she might have finally learned her lesson, she fucking tilts her head, batting those damn doe-eyes up at me, her lips curving ever so slightly.
My patience snaps when she shifts back against me, arching her spine like she’s begging me for more, and my free hand comes down hard against her arse again, the sharp slap echoing through the room.
Her nails scrape against the door, and I grin as I grip the base of my cock, teasing the head along her slick heat.
She shudders, her thighs clenching around me, her fingers flexing against the wood.
Her breathing is ragged, her body tense, waiting, needing -
Needing me .
I smirk, dragging myself along her slit, coating myself in her arousal and teasing her exactly how she deserves.
"You want me to fuck you, Poppy?"
She nods furiously, arching her back, pressing into me.
"Use your words," I remind her. "Tell me what you want."
" You ,” she grits out. “Freddie, please, just fuck me already."
Without another word, I thrust into her, sinking all the way in one smooth, punishing stroke.
She cries out, her body arching at the intrusion, the fullness, the stretch.
I grip her hips, anchoring her to the floor as she stretches up on her tiptoes, holding her exactly where I want her.
"That’s it," I murmur, pressing a hot kiss against her shoulder, savoring the way she clenches so perfectly around me. " Merde - you’re so fucking tight. ”
I roll my hips deliberately, feeling the walls of her cunt squeeze around me.
"Freddie, " she whimpers, her head falling forward, her body shaking with pleasure. “You feel… Fuck , you fill me up so good.”
I snap my hips forward, filling her deeper, harder, swallowing her soft little cries with another firm slap to her arse.
"You take me so fucking well," I groan.
My hands move to her hips, and I tighten my grip on her as I maneuver her body; practically bouncing her on top of my cock. Her arse shakes with every thrust, and I watch - almost lost in a trance - as I increase my pace until it’s near enough relentless.
Her body molds itself against mine as I fuck her, my hips snapping brutally against the perky flesh of her round behind. Her fingers claw at the door, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in sharp gasps as pleasure overwhelms her.
She’s close. I can practically feel it.
"You better come for me again," I tell her, tightening my grip on her hips, my movements unrelenting. "You wanted to tease me - now be a good girl and fucking come ."
I emphasise each word with a harsh, rough thrust of my hips, and with the final slap of skin against skin, she shatters.
A strangled moan rips from her throat as her body clenches and tightens, her thighs trembling violently as she comes, hard . Her orgasm milks me with devastating force, and I can only fuck her for a short while longer before I feel myself coming to the edge.
" Fuck ," I growl, slamming into her one last time before letting myself go.
I bury my cock as deep as I can as I spill my release inside her. My own orgasm tears through me, leaving me wrecked, breathless and fucking destroyed .
The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing, the pounding of my heart, the way she softly whimpers my name; and I press a lingering kiss against the back of her shoulder, dragging my hands over her waist, grounding myself.
Despite myself, I can’t help but smirk, pressing another teasing kiss against the shell of her ear.
"Lesson learned, mon ange ?" I tease.
I breathe her in, my forehead resting against the back of her shoulder, my hands still wrapped around her waist, grounding both of us.
She’s shaking, her breath uneven, her fingers still trembling against the door; but still, she lets out a breathless laugh at my question.
Fuck .
I let out a slow, measured exhale, trying to pull myself together. Because if I don’t, I’ll take her again - right here, right now, against this goddamn door, until she can’t stand, until she forgets her own name.
But for now?
For now, I need to take care of her.
I press one last kiss to the nape of her neck before I force myself to step back.
She whimpers softly at the loss of contact, but I shush her gently, fixing her dress before turning away.
The room is bare, disused and abandoned - but there, in the corner, a dusty shelf catches my eye.
I stride over, finding an old box of tissues buried amongst stacks of forgotten paperwork.
Grimacing, I rip off the first few layers, tossing them aside until I find a stack that’s clean and untouched. Then, I move back to her.
She hasn’t turned yet - still catching her breath, still leaning heavy against the door. I sink to my knees in front of her, smoothing a warm palm over her bare thigh, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin.
Then, without a word, I clean her up, wiping between her legs, taking my time. I work over her carefully; my hands gentle but firm, making sure she’s comfortable before I finally, reluctantly, pull away.
She breathes deeply as she reaches down and pulls her panties back up, straightens her dress, and finally - finally - turns to face me.
I watch her closely.
She looks wrecked - in the best fucking way.
Her lips are red and swollen, her cheeks flushed, her pupils still blown wide with arousal.
And yet, beneath all of that, there’s something else.
Satisfaction. Contentment.
Good .
Still, I tilt my head, raising a brow as I step closer, brushing a knuckle against her jawline, tipping her chin up.
"You okay? "
She nods, but I don’t let her get away with that.
I smirk, dragging my thumb over her bottom lip, watching the way she shivers under my touch.
"Use your words, mon ange ."
Her lips curve into a soft, slight smile.
"I’m okay," she says. She hesitates, pausing just slightly, and then, she corrects herself. "In fact, no - I’m more than okay."
I grin; a slow, wicked curl of my lips.
" Good ," I tell her, leaning in and brushing my mouth over hers.
It’s a soft kiss. Surprisingly so.
A stark contrast to the way I just ruined her against the door.
I take my time, savouring her taste, dragging my fingers through her hair and smoothing the strands as best I can before I reluctantly pull away.
She looks dazed as her brown eyes flicker between mine, and I chuckle softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You going to be around tomorrow?"
She blinks as though she’s processing the question.
“Tomorrow,” I say again. “The main race day.”
She nods immediately.
"Oh - of course."
I smirk. "I look forward to it."
She swallows, her fingers clutching the hem of her dress, and I can see it - the fight within her, the push and pull, the war between her head and her body.
I could push her again, demand that she admits it - that she wants me just as much as I want her.
But not yet. I’ll let her pretend she’s in control.
For now.
I step back, gesturing toward the door, a knowing look in my eyes.
"Ladies first."
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile as she moves past me, pushing the door open.
Without looking back, she slips into the corridor.
I watch her go, waiting a beat before I follow and go back to where I’m supposed to be.