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Nothing gave Kieran a better thrill than being in power. Especially over you. He played you like a fucking fiddle, and you drank it up. That's what he loved about you -- not counting your goddamn pretty looks.
He loved the way you'd bounce on his cock all the while he was leaned forward, writing some nonsense on those dumb sheets of paperwork. *Military paperwork was so fuckin' boring.*
He had warned you before you even took off that underwear of yours that he was in control. Always. No matter if you were the one in charge of your pleasure. He was still pulling the strings. This was evident when you had finally reached the edge, teetering on your orgasm. Once that plea escaped your lips, Kieran shook his head.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he rejected your sweet little plea. "No, you. You can't cum." One hand was tucked nicely on your thigh, his grip firm and controlling, while his free hand wrote in pen against his paperwork. It was almost amusing how unaffected he was, despite you bouncing on that cock of his.
He tossed a glance to your gaze, tilting his head. "Sweet thing, you've hardly even pleased me. Until you can fuckin' prove that you deserve it, you're not cumming. Got it?"
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