“Tell me you want it,” he said. “Tell me you want to be fucked. Tell me the truth.”

“No,” she pleaded, trembling on him. “Please, don’t…”

“Tell me.” He teased her clit for a minute with just the tip of his tongue and then pulled it away.

She moaned. “Oh, God!”

“You know it’s true.” He did it again, just a tease over her clit, his fingers moving slow now, the wet squelch of her pussy filling the room.

“Oh, fuck!” She shuddered against him, grabbing his head, trying to get him to put his tongue where she wanted it.

He jerked back. “Tell me you want a cock inside you, Stef.” He felt her relent, her muscles going slack. She stopped fighting him, fighting it, whispering, “Oh, I hate you for this.”

“No, you don’t.” He feathered kisses on her clit now. “Tell me.”

“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes! I want to be fucked!”

Her admission sent a jolt through him as she went wild, gasping and moaning, thrusting her hips against his face and tongue until she came, her muscles fluttering around the fingers plunged deep inside her pussy.

When she was spent, she crawled off of him and buried her face in her pillow. He thought he heard her say, “I hate you,” but he wasn’t sure. He used the incredible strength in his arms to move himself up onto his elbow beside her, stroking her long, sweat-dampened and tangled blonde hair.

“I’m going to invite Ben to dinner,” he said.

Stef turned her face to him. “Is this what you really want?” He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “It’s what you need.”

* * * *

“More wine,” Stef said grimly, holding her glass out to him.

Evan filled it without even raising his eyebrows, knowing how much she hated the stuff.

“How’s the roast?” He watched her down the liquid with a grimace and a shudder.