My eyes narrow.
And then she takes a firm hold of my cock. Her soft, small hand closing around me.
I blink at her, stupefied by this development.
What tactic is this?
"What are you doing?" I demand.
She says something else in a low voice, raising her chin in defiance.
My lust, anger, and frustration collide together in a volatile mixture.
With a growl, I crowd her back into a nearby alcove and pick her up, setting her on the ledge.
She has driven me too far.
Now she will pay the price.
I will not stop until she is writhing with pleasure upon my tongue, until she is gasping with the intensity of the climax I intend to give her.
I want her taste to coat my tongue, want to feel her legs tremble and her body arch, unable to control herself as I do what I want with her, until I drive her to the brink.
My cock throbs, almost painfully, against the now taut fabric of my trousers.
Her eyes are wide as she watches me and I know she worries what I may do.
Perhaps she should worry.
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