#GIMMIETHATDICK

[jaredwnch]

He looks up at you like you’re the only god he’s ever prayed to.

“Please,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Let me touch you—please, I need to—”

“You’ll stay just like this,” you purr, circling him slowly like you’re about to devour him. “Hands behind your back. You don’t touch me unless I say so.”

You bend down and run your tongue along the base of his cock, just once—slow and deliberate—and he jerks in place, gasping.

“Fuck—” he chokes. “That—please—again—”

You smile, wrapping your hand around the base and licking a long stripe up the underside of his shaft, pausing to swirl your tongue around the head. His thighs shake under you.

“You’re so fucking needy,” you whisper against him, lips brushing sensitive skin. “Bet you’ve been hard since the second I walked in.”

“Yes—yes—fuck, you don’t even know—”

You cut him off by taking him into your mouth all at once—wet, hot, tight. Sam cries out, head falling back as you suck him down, bobbing your head slow and deep, letting him feel every second of it. His hips twitch but don’t thrust—he’s trying so hard to be good for you.

You pull off with a wet pop, saliva trailing from your lips to his tip, and he looks absolutely ruined already.

“You wanna come just from that?” you tease, stroking him with slow, cruel precision. “So sensitive. So easy to break.”

He nods like he’s on the verge of tears. “I—I can’t take much more, I swear—please let me—”

“No.”

His eyes widen.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him fully, guiding his cock to your entrance and sinking down onto him in one long, slow motion. Sam makes a broken, wrecked noise—loud, needy, like the air’s been punched out of him.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “You’re so tight, you feel so—fuck—please—”

“Don’t come,” you command, rocking your hips just enough to make him twitch inside you. “You stay still. You take it.”

He bites down on his lip hard, almost whimpering, muscles straining as you ride him slow—grinding and rolling your hips, letting your walls milk him until he’s trembling and gasping beneath you.

“You’re such a good toy,” you whisper into his ear. “Made to fuck, made to please me. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he groans. “God, yes, I love it, I love being yours, please—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You clench around him tight and slap a hand to his throat—not choking, just holding—watching the way his eyes flutter and roll back at the control.

“You come when I say. Not before.”

He nods frantically, panting, sweating, desperate.

And then—when you feel him right on the edge, cock throbbing inside you, balls drawn tight—you slam your hips down and say:

“Now. Come for me.”

He breaks. Moans your name like a sob, body jerking as he spills deep inside you—hot and endless. You don’t let up. You ride him through it, overstimulating him as he twitches and gasps and whimpers, your name spilling out of his mouth in helpless cries.

You finally stop, letting him collapse back against the wall, boneless and wrecked. You stay on him, still full, still warm, and cup his flushed face in your hand.

He’s breathless. Fucked-out. Beautiful.

“Such a good boy,” you whisper. “And we’re just getting started.”