Mateo rumbled against her, the vibration making her clit throb. His lips sealed around her, sucking hard, and Bambi cried out, her hips jerking helplessly. He didn't let up. His tongue flicked, teased, circled, while his fingers dug into her ass, tilting her just right so he could devour her like a man starving. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on her filled the room, mixing with her ragged breaths, her broken pleas.
She was so close. So fucking close.
And then he stopped.
Bambi keened, her body jerking forward, chasing his mouth, but he pulled back just enough to blow a cool stream of air over her soaked folds. She shuddered, her pussy clenching around nothing, her clit throbbing in protest. "Mateo, please—"
His chuckle was dark, satisfied. "Begging already?" His thumb pressed against her clit, not rubbing, just holding—the threat of pleasure without the release. His other hand slid up her body, palming her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown, his fingers finding her nipple and pinching just hard enough to make her gasp. "You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of you?"
She hated him. Hated how he could reduce her to this—panting, desperate, her body betraying every last scrap of her pride. But when his tongue dragged through her folds again, slow and deliberate, she couldn't stop the broken "Yes" that fell from her lips.
His groan of approval vibrated against her, and then he was feasting. No more teasing. No more denial. His mouth sealed over her clit, his tongue working in tight, relentless circles while two thick fingers pushed inside her, curling just right to hit that spot that made her see stars. Bambi's vision whited out. Her nails raked down his shoulders, her thighs clamping around his head as she rode his face, her moans turning to sobs. "Fuck—fuck, Mateo—!"
He didn't let her come.
Just as the orgasm crested, just as her body locked up, trembling on the edge, he pulled back. His fingers slid free with a wet, obscene sound, and he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, his breath hot against her skin. "Not yet, mi amor."
Bambi collapsed back against the bed, her chest heaving, her body slick with sweat and need. She could feel him—his stubble rough against her thighs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her stomach, his dark eyes burning into hers as he loomed over her. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. "Every whimper. Every tremor. Every fucking drop of you." His hand slid up, his thumb brushing over her clit—just once, just enough to make her hips jerk. "And I'm not done with you yet."
Before she could process the words, he was moving, his hands hooking under her knees and pushing her legs up, spreading her wide. The cool air hit her exposed, dripping pussy, and she whined, her face flushing with humiliation and desire. But then his mouth was on her again, his tongue spearing deep inside her, and she didn't care about anything but the way he made her feel—owned, ruined, his.
His fingers joined his tongue, stretching her, filling her, while his other hand slid up to twist her nipple, the sharp bite of pain only making the pleasure more intense. Bambi was babbling now, her words dissolving into broken Spanish and English, her body coiling tighter and tighter under his relentless assault. "Please—por favor—let me come, let me—!"
Mateo pulled back just enough to growl against her skin, "Come when I say you can."
And then his mouth was on her clit again, his fingers crooking inside her, and she shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her like a storm, her back bowing off the bed, her scream raw and unfiltered as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Mateo didn't stop. He licked her through it, his tongue soothing and demanding all at once, drawing out every last tremor until she was boneless, her body twitching with oversensitivity.
Only then did he finally pull back, his lips glistening with her, his dark eyes locked onto hers as he slowly—deliberately—licked his lips clean.
Bambi's chest heaved, her skin flushed, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her climax. She should feel satisfied. Sated.
But the way Mateo was looking at her—the hunger still burning in his gaze, the thick outline of his cock straining against his pants—told her this was far from over.
His hand slid up her body, his fingers wrapping around her throat, not tight enough to choke, just enough to remind. His thumb brushed her pulse, feeling the way it jumped under his touch. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice a dark promise. "And I'm not nearly done with you yet."
Bambi's breath hitched.
Because she knew—oh, she knew—exactly what that meant.