"Ah-ah, you know the rules. Hands off, princess."
The words were a teasing growl, rumbling right against your ear, and all that did was make you want him even more. It didn't help that he'd pinned you between him and the wall, one leg nudged between yours, pressing just enough to drive you crazy.
You huffed a breath, and tilted your head back against the wall and keeping your fists clenched to stop yourself from reaching out.
"Miguel," you whined, not caring how petulant and childish you sounded. "I've been good. Please?"
His mouth was on your throat, teeth scraping across your pulse and making you shudde. He hummed a non-committal sound, and you knew he was playing with you, that he was loving this. Miguel liked it when you were like this. Liked the way you begged him.
You rolled your hips again, and his hands tightened on your hips to hold you in place, fingers digging in just shy of too hard. It would probably bruise.
You hoped it did.
"Please?" you tried again, letting out a soft whimper when he shifted his thigh between yours, grinding up against you.
He didn't answer, and instead nipped at your neck, worrying the skin until you knew there'd be a mark, and then soothing it with his tongue. His knee was still moving, giving you just enough friction to keep you desperate for more.
"I'll do anything," you offered, breathless and squirming as he sucked a mark just above your collarbone.
"Careful, amor. You might regret that." Miguel replied, the words murmured against your throat.
You shuddered.
"Anything," you repeated.
He pulled back, and the grin he gave you was wicked, "In that case, I have an idea."
"Fuck..." you breathed as his fingers slid under the waistband of your shorts, and his fingers dipped into you, two fingers curling easily inside of you.
He leaned forward, kissing you slowly, taking his time. His thumb brushed over your clit, and you moaned, and he swallowed the sound, humming his approval. You rocked down onto his hand, and he let you, not trying to stop you. When you came, it was with a soft gasp, your arms tightening around him.
You were still shivering from the aftershocks when he tugged your shorts off.
"So perfect," he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth.
He slid down your body, his mouth dragging over your skin. His thumbs hooked in the sides of your underwear, and you let him pull them down, and off. He kissed the inside of your thigh, and then your other, his mouth leaving a hot trail of sensation on your skin as he got on his knees.
"What are you doing?" you asked, the words coming out a breathless.
"You said 'anything.'" Miguel reminded you, before pressing a kiss to your hip, "So I'm going to make a mess out of you, amor."
You should have known there was a reason he was letting you come so soon.
His hands slid up the backs of your legs, hooking one over his shoulder, and the next thing you knew, he was pulling you closer, his mouth pressing against you, his tongue sliding over your already sensitive clit.
You gasped, your hands going to his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
His mouth was relentless, sucking and licking, his tongue tracing patterns over your clit that had your head spinning and your body arching. Your reflexively tried to press your thighs together, your body taught with overstimulation, but Miguel held them openand the only thing you could do was curl your fingers in his hair.
You came again, crying out and tugging at his hair. Your body was shaking, and your breath coming in short gasps. Miguel didn't stop. He didn't even slow down, his mouth pulling away just to immediately be replaced by his fingers.
"Oh, fuck," you swore, your hands falling away from his head, and scrambling for purchase on the wall.
"You taste so sweet," he purred, looking up at you, and grinning.
His fingers were working in and out of you, stretching and curling and pressing.
"Too much," you whimpered, trying to push his hand away, even though you knew it wouldn't do any good.
He laughed, a low, dark chuckle, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerked and he held you in place again, watching your face. "Oh, no, mi princesa," he whispered, voice teasing, "you can't go anywhere until I'm done."
"Please, Miguel." you whimpered and at that point you weren't sure if you were asking him to stop or begging him to keep going.
His mouth was on you again, his fingers twisting and his tongue working against you, and the next thing you knew you were coming apart, shuddering and gasping his name, and shaking. He slowed, but didn't stop, easing you through the orgasm and then starting all over again.
It took you longer to reach your next climax, and by the time he coaxed you over the edge, you were practically sobbing. Your body was so sensitive that the pleasure came with pain, and the only thing that kept you upright was his grip on you.
Miguel didn't stop, not even after that.
You didn't know how many times you came. You lost count. All you knew was that when he finally stopped, easing back and pulling his fingers out of you, you were limp and exhausted. Your knees gave out without him there to keep you in place and you slid down the wall, unable to stay on your feet.
Miguel was there immediately, wrapping his arms around you, and gently gathering youagainst his chest.
"What the actual fuck," you mumbled, your breath hitching, and your thighs still twitching.
"I told you, amor," he answered and you knew he had a smirk on his face. "I was going to make a mess of you."
"Mess isn't the word," you muttered, burying your face against his shoulder.
"Oh?"
"More like 'wreck.'"
He chuckled, the sound a rumble in his chest. "If you can still talk, I must not have done my job."
"Miguel!" you squeaked, lifting your head to look at him.
"Relax, princess," he teased, grinning, "I'm done. For now."
You huffed, too blissed out to dignify him with a response. Instead, you melted deeper into his embrace, letting him soothe you with gentle caresses.
Little did he know, you were already thinking of ways to get him back.
After all, two could play this game.