The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 27

"Is there something you want to ask me, Babydoll?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Brooklyn thought, as she felt his fingers rubbing at her. She flexed her hand, which she had tried to surreptitiously put on his cock, causing him to hiss shortly. She knew what she wanted him to do. What she felt like she needed him to do. Steve had caused that ache again. And, according to him, it was his responsibility to make it go away, replacing it with the pleasure that he had introduced her to. The problem was, she was still uncertain on how to ask for what she wanted.

"I want..." She looked up at him, at his smirk, at his warm satisfied eyes, and narrowed her own. "I want you."

Steve grinned. "You have me, Babydoll."

She grunted with frustration, squeezing his cock firmly, feeling him jump. "No."
"No?" he asked, breathlessly.

"I want you." She leaned up, trying to press her lips to his, without dislodging his fingers, which still rubbed at her pussy. But she was having issues. "Goddammit, Rogers!"

He pinched her chin again, giving her a warning look. "If you want something, you have to ask. Only good girls get what they ask for. Bad girls don't get anything."

She huffed, pushing away, inadvertently pushing herself back on his fingers, her eyes widening when she felt the tip of one enter her. He quickly pulled it away, in fact he pulled his whole hand away, and out of her cotton shorts. She couldn't help the whine that left her throat at the removal of his touch.

"I told you, Babydoll. Bad girls don't get anything. You have to tell me what you want. Use your words." He reprimanded her, tapping her on the chin.

Brooklyn huffed. This was so much easier last night. Even this morning. Last night, she had reminded him of his promise. This morning, he had asked if he could make her cum. But now, now he was demanding she ask him, tell him, and the words were tangling up behind her tongue.

She could feel her clit throbbing between her legs, her breasts felt heavy and swollen, her nipples were hard and rubbing against her cotton top. And empty. She felt empty inside. Every touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, making the throbbing, the ache... the goddamn ache... worse.

Frustrated, she stood up, digging her hands into her hair, pulling at it as she growled. Glaring at Steve, she watched as he gave her a confident grin, and stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking at them loudly, before slowly pulling them out. He raised an eyebrow, and reached down to begin pulling at the tie of his sweatpants, reaching in when the waist was loose enough. He groaned as he grasped his own cock, looking at her with heated eyes.

"Do you know how good you taste? Knowing I'm the only man who's ever tasted you?" He breathed, as he gave himself a quick stroke, visible through his sweat pants. "As soon as you tell me what you want, ask me for it, I'll give it to you, Babydoll. You just have to open up those pretty lips, and tell me."

Brooklyn bit her lip, watching as he reached behind his head, grabbing the back of the couch, his hips arching up into his hand, his arms flexing, his neck cording, his jaw tight with clenched teeth. His eyes burned into hers. Demanding, waiting, beckoning. She pressed her thighs together in response, feeling the gush of more wetness push through her lower lips.

He used another slow stroke, hissing through his teeth, before pulling his hand out of his sweats. His thumb glistened. With a bolt of lightening striking her, she knew what it was, and her mouth suddenly watered. She stepped forward, stepping over his knee, between his legs which he obligingly spread for her, making room, as she leaned forward. Placing a hand on the back of the couch, next to his, she reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her face. She could smell him. Male, musk... something that was uniquely Steve Rogers. She tried to pull his hand closer, her mouth already opening, when he resisted.