Beg for more

He’d fucked her once already, so when the blonde phoned the next day he knew exactly how far he meant to push her. Not inside her. Not yet. He wanted her to ache first, to feel the hollow space between her thighs grow hotter with every word he didn’t say. She tried to stay light, to flirt, but her voice thinned every time he left a silence after one of her little questions. By the time they met she was already shifting on her feet, lips parted, eyes too bright. He kept his hands to himself at first, letting the quiet stretch until she broke it, stepping in close, whispering that she needed more than the last time. He let her sink to her knees, watched the quick flash of gratitude in her face before her mouth opened for him. She worked him slow at first, then deeper, hungry now, mascara already threatening. When he pulled back she followed, tongue out, eyes begging. He gave her just enough to keep her whimpering, then painted her cheeks and lips, watching the mess slide down her chin while she kept her mouth open for whatever else he might decide to give.