Redouble the effort

Your fingers tighten around him again, dragging up his shaft in a slow, deliberate stroke—the kind that makes his hips jerk and his breath catch. “Come on,” you pant against his mouth, your voice rough with need, “cum for me.” Your thumb swipes over the head of his cock, spreading the slickness there, twisting just the way you know he likes.

Your fingers trail down his shaft, slowing until the pads of your fingertips brushing feather-light over the sensitive skin of his balls—just a whisper of contact. His hips jerk, a ragged curse escaping his lips as his cock twitches against your palm, thick and heavy with need. You curl your fingers, coaxing, demanding, your touch alternating between firm strokes and barely-there grazes—just enough to make his breath hitch, his thighs tense.

His answering growl is rough, unsteady, his grip on your hip bruising as he grinds against you, his fingers still working deep inside you.

You could feel him trembling, his cock twitching in your fist as a broken curse spilled from his lips, but neither of you would relent. Your nails dug into his shoulder, your own climax coiling like a live wire, every nerve alight as his touch pushed you closer—*so close*—until your thighs clenched around his wrist, a choked moan escaping you as pleasure ripped through you first, wet and shuddering, your body bowing against his. His fingers dragging out every last pulse of your climax until you were gasping, oversensitive, your grip on his cock faltering.

A rough chuckle rumbled against your throat as he felt you shudder apart beneath him, your body still twitching around his fingers.

You had lost. The realization burned through the haze of pleasure—his rhythm never broke, his cock still hard and leaking against your thigh, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.