“Please.”
Yazid didn’t beg often, and that was half the thrill of it—but Ali didn’t give in just yet, and slowly drew out until just the tip was left inside.
“Please what?” he whispered, kissing the sweat-soaked skin of Yazid’s sternum. His arms were straining with the effort of supporting himself, and his c**k was straining even harder with the desperate need to come. Who wouldn’t, when Yazid looked like this—damp and gasping, chest and ribs heaving in rapid bursts, hands twisted and pulling hard at the restraints Ali had tied him to the headboard with, biceps rock-hard and trembling with the need to touch himself.
“f*****g Christ, Ali, let me come, please…”
“Please what?” Ali insisted, brushing his mouth down Yazid’s neck, over the hummingbird-fast pulse hammering against the skin. H
