Too Strong: Chapter 15

CONOR’S EYES SNAP TO ME, an airless unease mounting around him. “Wrong? What’s ? What won’t work?”

My breath falters. Goddamn. He heard.

I’m turned on to an abstract, incomprehensible point, tumbling through vertigo with nothing but the all-consuming need to come. I quiver softly, my body like an exposed nerve.

The heat of his palm cuffing my neck only intensifies the pleasure coursing through me, but I know he won’t tip me over the edge.

No one managed that.

I have to take charge and find a rhythm that does the job, or I’ll be left frustrated.

My chest heaves, my nipples so hard they sting. I want him to touch me. Kiss me, and let me take what I need, but he’s not budging, eyes on mine as he waits for an explanation.

“You won’t make me come this way.”

He raises a questioning, ignorant brow. “And why not?”

“Because…” I stammer, the heat of his gaze flaying my skin. “I… I need to set the pace, or it won’t happen.”

He clamps his fingers over my neck. “Is this okay?”

Okay? It’s beyond okay. It’s hot even though he’s not squeezing hard, barely holding me in place. “That’s nice.”

“I’m not good at giving up control, Vee, but if I can’t make you come the way I want, I’ll let you lead.” He flicks his fingers over my panties, teasing, building the anticipation. “You think you can let me try?”

My body pulls taut. Dread sinks into my bones.

He’ll be left disappointed when I can’t reach orgasm. He’ll think I’m broken or that he’s not good enough. It’ll bruise his ego, and “Not now, not ever,” he says immediately, yanking my panties aside and exposing me to him. “Give me five minutes.”

It’s unnerving how he stares. Like he’s checking whether I meet his expectations. It’s in my head; I know this. Ridiculous, self-conscious thoughts. Did I shave well enough? Am I dripping onto his jeans? Is my pussy too dark? Too light? Ugly?

My knees are pressed together, but it doesn’t cover me up this way. If anything, it exposes me in a filthier way.

He glides one finger between my lips, sliding up and down slowly. “Such a pretty pussy,” he groans, eyes focused between my legs. “Let me try, baby.”

I nod, fling my head back, close my eyes, and melt into the steering wheel.

Even if he doesn’t make me come, I want him to touch me because when he does, he sends a shock of endorphins roaring through my blood. I want him to tighten the hold around my throat and—

He dips two fingers inside me.

Curls them immediately, and just like that, he finds my G spot. The magical button no man I’ve been with thus far ever looked for.

“Wrap your arm around your knees,” he instructs.

I obey, holding my knees together as a needy moan escapes me without permission. The sensation of being touched by a man who knows what he’s doing blurs my vision with pure pleasure.

“Good. Just like that,” Conor coos quietly, slowly working those fingers in me. “I’ll worship the ground beneath your feet every day, baby. I’ll spoil you with cuddles, kisses, dinners… I’ll give you the world. And at the same time…” He increases the pressure on my neck, enough for a hot flush to heat my face, “…in bed… I’ll own every inch of your body.”

God, this man knows what he’s doing. Every low, husky word encourages my orgasm, beckons it closer to the surface, the unrushed tempo of his fingers sliding in and out nothing short of amazing. Add the sheer possessiveness filling his tone, and I’m a goner.

“Such a needy girl,” he fusses, desire lurking in his eyes when my hips start winding. “Don’t stop.”

He’s got me so close. So , but… it’s not enough.

Just a little more. A little faster.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he asks, his voice full of lustful amusement. Letting go of my throat, he moves his hand between my legs, and his thumb is there… pressing against my clit, rubbing tight circles. “Wrong, Little Bee. Look at me.”

It takes effort to peel my eyes open, but I do, meeting his heated gaze. He rests against the seat, casually sprawled, not a care in the world.

Seeing him like this, no one would guess both his hands were between my legs, eliciting expert pleasure.

“You’re right where I want you. Almost coming. Almost getting what you need. Ready to be tipped over.” He ups the tempo, filling me faster and proving a point when my body purrs toward orgasm.

But it doesn’t hit.

He stops before the elation stacks up high enough, making me whimper in protest.

“No, no, , don’t stop, it’s—”

“You’ll come when I’m good and ready to let you and not a moment sooner.” His fingers manipulate my G spot, causing faint shudders as I clench around them, rocking my hips to get off.

A lazy smile curls his lips.

His head hits the backrest.

I want to smack his stupid, handsome face, tear his hands away and finish what he started, but…

I love what he’s doing.

I love that he knows how to touch me. That he drive me this feverish, this illogical with need.

“Whose are you, Vee?”

I half pant, half moan, the words a jumbled drowned-out mishmash because he tortures my clit again, hard and fast, reducing my bones to liquid.

But when I’m right there, he eases away, lazily pumping two fingers in and out, keeping me balanced on edge. He offers enough to keep me there but not enough to push me over.

“You need to know it with every one of your cells,” he continues. “Whose are you?”

He pinches my clit—gently—but I’m so ready to come my whole body spasms wildly. Another moan tears from my chest. My mind fires up time and time again, but it’s not an orgasm. It’s a prelude, tiny vibrations, barely a suggestion of what the real thing will feel like.

“Please,” I gasp, a hot ball of frustration surging behind my ribs. I’m ready to cry, kick, . “Please, Conor… I can’t take this!”

“

are you? I need words.”

I bite my bottom lip, whimpering when he toys with my clit again, bringing me so close. “Yours,” I pant, digging my nails into my knees so hard I leave marks. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right. Mine.” He smiles, exhaling a content breath as his gaze zeroes between my thighs. “Mine to take care of and mine to drive crazy.” He increases the pace, crooking his fingers inside me while his thumb rubs my clit, and that’s all it takes.

The orgasm rips through me, powerful, mythical, so intense I think I’ll black out. So intense I’m deaf. Blind. Utterly useless.

I never came so hard. Never felt so boneless or delusional. The sensation eases off and then comes again like waves crashing against the shore.

And Conor doesn’t stop. He still strokes my G spot, still puts his thumb to good use, and the release lasts so long.

fucking long I think I have an out-of-body experience.

He finger-fucks me right through it, easing back until he brings me down completely. And only when I tune back into reality Conor gently removes his fingers, licks them dry, then gathers me up like a ragdoll.

In three moves, he’s got me flush against his chest, our lips moving in a slow, thorough, attentive kiss. I’m still lightheaded, limp, mellow, my pussy pulsing with little aftershocks.

“From now on,” he whispers, tucking my head under his chin as he strokes my back, “you don’t touch yourself. Don’t get off unless I’m watching, understood? Your orgasms are mine.”

“Okay,” I sigh, nuzzling my face in his neck.

“I hate to say this, but it’s almost midnight. We should get going.”

“Okay.”

He chuckles, kissing my head. “Orgasms make you very agreeable, baby. I’ll keep that in mind.” He swipes his thumbs under my eyes, then pulls my scrunchie out.

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked. Unless that’s the look you’re going for, I suggest you fix your hair and dress.”

I straighten more, spotting the bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t think.”

He grabs my wrist before I get anywhere near his zipper. “This isn’t an exchange, Vee.”

“But you’re—”

“About ready to lock you in my room for a week and fuck you until we’re both too exhausted to move? Yeah, but I don’t mind waiting.” He pats my hip, urging me to get off him. “I’m trying to get into your dad’s good books, and making you late won’t do me any favors. Lead the way.”