Trinity 1-844-332-2639 ext 285
The way he begs for me is better than any orgasm. It starts with a look. That hungry, needy stare he gets when I walk into the room wearing nothing but a robe and a smirk. He’s already hard before I even speak. I love that about him—how my presence alone is enough to make him squirm.
“Sit,” I say, and he obeys immediately, settling on the edge of the bed with wide eyes and parted lips.I step in front of him, slowly opening my robe. He inhales sharply, gaze locked on my bare skin, hands clenched at his sides like he’s afraid to touch. He knows better. I haven’t given him permission.
“You want it, don’t you?” I ask, teasing my nipples with my fingers, dragging one hand down my stomach. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please.” That’s my favorite part. Not the touching. Not even the orgasm. It’s the begging. I live for that whimper in his voice, the tremble in his thighs as he pleads. When he’s on his knees, tongue out, eyes wide and desperate—there’s nothing sexier.
I slide my panties down slowly, watching him watch me. I can see how badly he wants to
The Way He Begs for Me Is Better Than Any Orgasm
he wants to bury his face between my legs, but I’m not ready for that yet. I want him to suffer first. “Beg for it,” I whisper, stepping forward just enough that he can smell me. “Tell me how badly you need me.”
His voice shakes as he says it. “Please, I need to taste you. I need to feel you. I’ll do anything.” Anything. That’s my trigger. I pull him forward by the hair and press his face against me. He moans like it’s the first time, every time.
He worships me. Not just my body, but my power, my control, my dominance. And when I come—grinding against his face, breath ragged and hips shaking—I don’t even give him release. Because the way he begs for me? That’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever had.
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