The room was dimly lit by a few candles and a small desk lamp tucked away in the corner. You could hear his deep, steady breaths behind you as you massaged coconut lotion onto your legs, knowing the scent was exceedingly heightened for him.
You were waiting for it - the small beg that would inevitably fall from his lips when he couldn't take it anymore. You'd been here before, you knew the routine.
So you busied yourself with the lotion, pretending that your skin wasn't on fire with need. You couldn't look at him too much or you'd lose all of your will power to wait for the beg. But you wanted it so badly.
A small whimper fell from his lips, sending even more arousal to pool in the pit of your stomach. He was so close to giving you what you wanted you could feel it. For as patient of a man as he was in nearly every aspect of his life, this was the only time he let restlessness get the best of him.
And then you heard it, a breathless "please baby" that instantly sent a zip of pleasure down your spine.
You sucked in a breath, snapping the top of the lotion closed as you slowly turned to face him, blindly placing the bottle back on your dresser.
He was sprawled out on the center of your oversized bed, each of his wrists cuffed to the outermost prongs of your metal, wrought iron headboard. His head was tipped back fully against the mattress, his neck strained as he thickly swallowed and his chest rose and fell intensely. You could see the way his ragged breaths pulled on the muscles of his stomach, clenching and pulsing weakly. You noticed the way his lips still glistened, having had you sat on his face moments ago - when he brought you over the edge with just his mouth and desperate grunts against your core. Your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the iron prongs of your headboard, rolling your hips against his tongue as your thighs squeezed his head. You practically drowned him in your juices and yet he couldn't get enough, happily gasping for air and begging for more as you climbed off him.
His legs were spread open - thick, creamy thighs on full display to your eager eyes. And on even more of a display, just begging for attention, was his cock - thick and full and beautifully extending away from his pelvis. He would twitch every so often, the appendage pulsing with the blood from the rest of his body, all focused and pumping into his length.
God, you loved him like this. You could basically see his need vibrating off his skin, pulling sharp breaths from his lungs and causing sweat to coat the dip in the center of his chest. You'd already edged him four times, bringing him right there, but then pulled away - letting him suspend mid-air at the start of an orgasm and watching as it fizzled away. Each time he whimpered and cursed through it, and you left him laying there with nothing but choked cries and breathless pants until he settled himself, just to do the same torture to him again, over and over.
Fuck, he was so good each time, taking whatever you gave. He'd murmur how good it felt and how much he loved you, each time becoming more and more desperate. The last edge though, you could tell his insides were burning, and his orgasm was so bottled up by that point that he was on the verge of crying. And that was exactly where you wanted him.
You quietly made your way over to him, carefully stepping over his clothes that had been stripped off nearly an hour ago. Black jeans, his boxers, a black and white polka dot button down, all haphazardly scattered next to the bed when you made him strip for you, hungry eyes devouring each other as each article of clothing hit the floor.
You admired him for a moment, watching as he licked and bit his bottom lip, attempting to stifle his pants and quiet whimpers. You reached out slowly to pet back the curl that had fallen onto his forehead, his neck straining in your direction in search of more contact. His skin was clammy, a tell tale sign of just how turned on he was. As if his cock wasn't enough of a sign, twitching against his will, a dribble of precum connecting from his rasberry tip to his stomach. It looked painful, and there was a part of you that hoped it was.
