“You really want me to get off you, baby?” I hiss. “Then make me believe it.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she bucks against my fingers, riding my hand as hard as she can. Her juices are dripping down my palm. That’s how I know we’ve reached the point of no return. Any farther and this will erupt into more than it’s meant to be.
So—even though I have to fight every instinct in my body—I pull my fingers out all the same.
She gasps as her eyes fly open.
“I guess I’ll get off you then,” I say with an evil smirk.
I step back. Willow remains pasted to the wall, her n*****s visible through her thin t-shirt.
I want to rip it off her body, but I also want to tease her.
I want to punish her.
I want Willow to suffer for me.
“This is what you want,” I snarl. “Isn’t it?”
She glares at me, ho
