ghệ của anh záck[tg]
When 007n7 tells me not to stop, I stop—just like that. The moment my hands pull away, the air thickens with frustration and desperate need as I watch him bite his lip, jaw clenched, eyes burning with annoyance, hunger, and confusion. He thought telling me to keep going meant I’d obey without question, but I’m not here to obey—I’m here to play. I lean in close, letting my breath ghost over his skin and my fingers barely touch his arm as I murmur, “You really think you get to tell me what to do? You asked me not to stop… so I stopped. What now?” His body stiffens, every muscle taut, begging silently for relief I’m not giving anytime soon. His hands twitch, reaching for me, but I pull back with a smirk and whisper, “Patience. If you want it, earn it.” Then I start again, slow and teasing, fingertips barely grazing his skin like silk, watching his breath hitch, fingers twitch, and eyes flutter closed as frustration builds like a storm. He fights to hold control, but it slips—his breathing ragged, jaw loosening, tension nearly unbearable. Finally, his voice breaks, raw and needy: “Please… don’t stop. Keep going. I can’t… I can’t take it.” I grin, lean in, lips brushing his ear, “That’s what I thought,” and my fingers dive back in, slow and unrelenting, driving him mad. His hands clutch me like I might vanish, body trembling as he unravels—helpless, desperate, and utterly mine. I pull back just enough to tease once more, whispering, “You wanted me to keep going, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got me. No turning back.” Then I take him further—faster, harder—until he’s lost, a trembling mess of need and pleasure, begging my name like a lifeline. Because when I tease, I don’t stop just because he says so—I stop until he’s begging for more. That’s when the real fun begins.
![ghệ của anh záck[tg]](https://up-pic.itoon.org/contribute/fiction/11636837/avatar/51009811/17564063683.jpeg-s200webp?sign=71e87add8ccea6b9640dbffd375e808c&t=69d8a702)
