James peppered kisses along Natalia’s legs as his hands dug into her soft flesh, leaving bruises all over her body. As he made his way up, her sweet, tempting scent filled his nostrils, clouding his mind with lustful ecstasy. Fuck, if she had asked him, he’d be at her beck and call every moment of the day, taking nothing but her moans and screams in exchange. He’d gladly spend hours and hours with his head in her thighs, latch onto her clit and drive his fingers into her pussy, lavishing how wet, how hot, and how tight she was.
James," she said, her breath shaky. "James—" she gasped for air, "--stop teasing." She begged with him, desperately trying to lift her hips and pull him toward her heat before being jerked back into the soft mattress and having her hips shoved down. She whined, having been left with only faint touches and open-mouthed kisses in all the wrong places.
James had her spread out on the bed, pinching her bare nipples and yearning for more of his touch as she dripped with arousal. Natalia kept begging him to do just anything: rub her, add pressure, lick her through the white cotton. But he refused to give up, not because he didn't want to pull down her soaking panties and suck and lap onto her vulva, but because he wanted to hear her cry, beg, and come apart for him and him alone. "Be patient, darling," he spoke as he sunk his teeth into Natalia's thigh, nibbling on her sensitive skin. "Everything—," he kissed deeper into her thigh, "Has—" deeper "its own—" and deeper "time," he murmured, kissing the thin elastic alongside her clothed pussy.
She fell back, whimpering. He was so close, but so fucking far. "Well, I don't have it," she complained, squeezing her breasts and rubbing her nipples in the hope of getting a little relief.
Oh, you do," he said, his eyes landing on the clock on her bedside. 12:30am. "You so do."