He fucked her with his fingers until she was writhing, until the sheets twisted in her grip, until she was so close she could feel the orgasm coiling at the base of her spine like something monstrous... and then he stopped.
She screamed in frustration.
Only then did he undo his belt. Only then did he position himself above her, the head of his cock pressing against where she was wettest, hottest, most desperate.
He pushed inside in one long stroke. Her back arched off the bed.
There was no more teasing. He fucked her hard, the kind of fucking that was more punishment than reward, each thrust driving her deeper into the mattress.
Her apologies became a litany, broken syllables spilling from her lips in time with his rhythm and through all of it, Silas remained silent.
Just the sound of their bodies meeting, the creak of the bed frame, and Ivy's voice cracking on his name.
