I hold as still as I can.
He has me pinned, one arm underneath his body, the other wrist gripped firm in his hand. But that leaves him with one hand free, and he has been making good use of that, pinching and scratching and teasing lightly until I asked, breathless, for him to touch me.
Since then my cunt has become the centre of my world. Gentle fingers twisting inside me, or sliding over my clit, driving me mad with his patient slowness. I am so sensitive then every touch of his hand makes my breath catch, and I am trying so hard to hold still and breath quiet because he will not let me come. He knows me too well, knows how I look when I am close, and he never takes me further. His fingers slow down, or stop dead inside me, so that I buck uselessly against them, trying to get those few seconds more that are all I need, all I have needed for hours, days, oh, forever.
He strokes my clit in slow circles, far too slow, and I whimper softly and twist towards him, bury my face against his chest. “Please. Please. I want to come.”
He tightens his grip on my wrist, lifts his hand away. “Not yet.”
“Please?”
He slides a finger back into me, fucking me with it, agonisingly gentle. I rock my hips helplessly, too aroused to keep up my pretence. He has never made me come by accident, there is no use in trying to fool him, but I always try. He leans down to suck my nipple and it is almost too much to bear. “Please. Please.”
“Not yet.”

(Tagged as “fantasy” because this isn’t a transcript, but I’ve done denial scenes very like this.)

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