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“Please,” I said. “Please, Elena. May I come?”
“Is that it?” She propped her chin on my thigh and looked up at me, mouth shiny, eyes bright. “That was a very small please.”
“Please. Please, I’ll do anything. I need to come. Please, Elena, please.”
“Better.” She wrapped her hand round me, loose and slow, and my hips jerked against the cuffs. “Louder. And look at me when you say it.”
She edged me three times. Three. She stroked until my breathing went ragged and my thighs shook, then let go and sat back with her hands in her lap while I swore at the ceiling. The second time she added her mouth, hot and tight, and stopped one heartbeat before the end. The third time she dragged her tongue over my balls and pressed a thumb to the spot behind them, and I howled.
“You’re so pretty when you beg,” she whispered. She climbed up my body, naked now, her lace discarded somewhere, and hovered above my cock with her thighs trembling either side of my hips. I could feel her heat and her wetness, and I could see she wanted this almost as badly as I did.
“Tell me what you’re going to say when I let you.”
“Thank you.” My voice was a croak. “Thank you, Elena.”
“Mm. Or do you want to tell me what you want?” She brushed the head of me against her, just that, nothing more. “You can ask. I might say yes.”