The sound of his spine popping, a natural sound, wholesomely loud as as his stomach contracted and her curled to watch her. Eyes wide open, searching for hers between the strands of hair. That did it, those eyes, her eyes peeking from behind locks of matted hair, almost broke his control right there. His thighs flexed, tightened and wanted to move, wanted to throw her off, stop the agony, to grab her head and thrust in until the tip of his crown was at her throat. Damnit, His free hand clenched and unclenched the carpet, he wanted her , no doubt, but the torture was exquisite. She was an artist, he could not pull away if he tried. He wanted her to swing her body to his, give him purpose, give him reason. He wanted to erupt and die in her grip right now, if she would let him