Harmony Ch. 05

"It seems we have a dilemma," he teased her. He traced her with the tip of his cock. "You want me to fuck you." He did it again. "But I want to hear you beg."

"Please," she panted immediately, "please fuck me, please make me come--"

"Make you?" He put his hands on her thighs and lifted her legs over his shoulders, then leaned forward until he was above her face. "If I want you to come, you will. You know that. The question is if I let you."

"I'm sorry, please let me come," she said, her voice high and plaintive. "Please, please, please let me come."

He couldn't keep the edges of his mouth from turning up. He kept her legs hooked over her body, running his hands over her calves, her thighs, then down to position himself at the edge of her again.

"Please let me come, please, please let me come..."

He slid into her, up to the hilt, and she threw her head back and made a low, needy noise. He summoned every bit of willpower he had not to end the game early. "I think I'll fuck you hard," he panted. "How does that sound?"

"Oh, please!"

He had at her, deep, rough strokes, and she wailed loud enough that his neighbors, if they were home, would almost certainly hear, but he didn't care. "Come," he barked at her, and she was already there, her fingers digging into the mattress and her body taut. He bit his lip again, hard, thought, not yet, not yet, not yet, but he was so damn close, watching her, hearing her feeling her. He stopped moving and bent down again. She was still gasping and making kittenish noises in the aftermath of her orgasm. He took her wrists, drew them together in one hand, and pulled them up above her head. He slid his other hand beneath the small of her back and angled her up.

"You're mine," he said, rocking against her. "All mine. Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Keep saying it."

"I'm yours," she chanted, "I'm yours, all yours..."

He withdrew slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tightened trying to keep him.

"I'm yours..."

And thrust back into her, hard. She cried out, incoherent, and he said, "Did I tell you to stop?"

She drew a ragged breath and then said again, "I'm yours..." When he withdrew she said it through clenched teeth, her voice high and reedy. Again, into her, hot and wet, hard and fast. She almost lifted herself off the bed, losing her words once more.

"I want you to come and I want you to say it," he ordered, pulling out of her again as slowly as he could manage. Then he let himself go, with all his weight, and she gave a loud, feline yowl, twisting against him, letting the whole building, maybe the whole block, know that she was his.

He came in a euphoric rush that closed his eyes, sweating, shuddering with release. He felt obliterated. They were both breathing like they'd run a sprint. He let go of her wrists, bent forward to rest against her. One of her hands made its way into his hair. He lifted himself up a little to look at her; her eyes were closed, her mouth open, drawing deep breaths.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

A weak smile. "Mmmm."

His legs felt weak and as he shifted he climbed onto the bed beside her, lying on his stomach, reaching a hand out to caress her shoulder. "Was that too much?"

"Oh, no," she said in a dreamy voice. "That was perfect. I don't even know how you do that."

"What?"

"Hold off for so long."

He laughed and tried to smooth some of her wild hair. "I love a challenge."

"And I love you."

He massaged her scalp and she almost purred, more relaxed than he'd seen her in weeks, totally at ease and not even opening her eyes. He got up, wet a washcloth, came back and began to wipe her thighs. She let him do it without protest.

"Thank you," she said, so softly he barely heard it. She seemed to fall asleep then, even though she was at the wrong end of the bed. He left her to drink a glass of water and then climbed in beside her, wrong end or no, resting his head on his arms, just watching her sleep for a bit. He thought again about the strangeness of Ginny sometimes, all the unknowns, all the secrets. He thought about Ginny meeting his mother, his father; Ginny standing in his parents' kitchen, Ginny in his old bedroom.

He would have cured all her unhappiness if it was possible. The most he could hope for was temporary, but that, at least, he thought he'd managed. He sure as hell hoped so.

Because the day after tomorrow they were going to New York.