Damon was falling apart.
I could feel it in every twitch of his c**k, every broken gasp that slipped past his lips. His hands were shaking behind his back now, fists clenched, knuckles white, as if that was the only thing keeping him from losing control.
Good. That was the point.
I rocked my hips harder, grinding down with slow, cruel rhythm, keeping him buried inside me but never giving him what he wanted—what he needed.
He tried to f**k up into me once. Just once.
I stopped moving immediately.
His eyes snapped open, panic flickering across his face like he knew he’d f****d up.
“You moved,” I said flatly.
“I—Quinn, I didn’t mean to—f**k, I’m sorry, I just—”
I slapped him across the face again. Not hard. Just enough to humiliate him.
“You’re lucky I don’t get off this c**k right
