I Need to Hear You Say It

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby girl?”

His body didn’t touch mine, but I felt the heat emanating from his bare chest. I knew what I wanted to say, but the words lodged themselves in my throat. Why was this so damned difficult?

“I’m not going to touch you until you tell me you want this.”

I nodded like a possessed bobblehead. Of course, I wanted it. I always wanted it. Why were we playing this game?

“I need to hear you say it.”

There was the rub. I always struggled to “use my words” as he called it. Writing? Thinking? Using body language? Yep, those were easy. But just saying it? I felt like I’d swallowed concrete.

“Do you want me to slip my finger in your wet pussy. Rub your hard clit?”

YES! I whimpered and arched my body towards his. He pulled back. Damn it.

“Do you want my lips and tongue to trace a path from your ear –” his breath was warm on my neck “down your neck and over each sweet nipple?”

I stared down at the top of his head, his mouth so close to my breast. I jutted forward, desperate for the promised pleasure.

He stepped back. “Nah-ah-ah. Not until you tell me you actually want it. Use your words.”

“Yes, please.”

That’s what the words were supposed to be but what left my mouth was little more than a squeak.

“What’s that baby girl? I didn’t quite catch what you said.” He knew damn good and well what I’d said and we both knew it. “So you don’t want me to bend you over that table,” his eyes flicked to the side, “smack those sweet cheeks of yours,” his tongue darted against his lips in anticipation, “spread your legs and finger-fuck you until you come in my hand?”

Another whimper. My cunt throbbed. My nipples tightened painfully. I fucking wanted every bit of what we described but I wouldn’t get what I wanted until I gave him what he wanted — my total surrender.

“So, baby girl,” I felt the heat from his torso as he leaned in a little more. “What will it be?”

I trembled. Perspiration beaded on my lower back. We both smelled my desire.

“Yes, fuck me. Suck me. Spank me. Finger me. Yes to all of it!” The words came out in an indecipherable rush.

Fucking hell. Was he going to make me say it again? How long would this game go on?

I finally looked up at him. The sadistic gleam staring back at me told me everything I needed to know.

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything remotely sexy. And no, this wasn’t taken from real life, although I can definitely imagine John Brownstone doing this to me. This is a prompt from 31 Days of Erotic Fiction: write a scene with clear and explicit consent and make it sexy as fuck. Well…here you go! Want to read what others have written using these prompts, click the badge above.