"Kasteil please," I begged, the words scraping out raw and broken, barely more than a whimper now.
He didn't answer. Just watched me with that slow, devastating smile—the one that said he knew exactly how close to the edge I was, and he was savoring every trembling second of it. His red eyes had gone almost black at the pupils, but his expression stayed infuriatingly serene. He liked this. Liked seeing me unravel, slick pooling beneath me, body shaking with the effort of holding still when every instinct screamed to chase release.
If he wouldn't move, I'd make him move.
I rocked my hips harder, faster, fucking myself onto his fingers with desperate, sloppy jerks. The wet, filthy sound echoed obscenely—slick squelching around his knuckles every time I drove back. I chased that spot inside me ruthlessly, breath hitching into little sobs, moans spilling unchecked.
