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Matsukawa Issei held your chin; gentle enough not to bruise but with enough force that you couldn't move your head freely. The musk of his perfume was heady, and there was a slight sense of disorientation when you looked up at him. The broadness of his shoulders filled your view, towering over you, and one of his eyebrows raised up, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Go on," his voice was rough sounding, a deep husk coating the words, amusement clinging to every syllable, "You wanted to mouth off so badly. Well, here's your chance."
You stayed silent, stubborn, your defiant gaze still trained on his face. At your insistence, his fingers dug into your flesh; his tongue clicking disapprovingly. Still, his other hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His feather light touch continued over your jaw to your throat, your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, and his smile grew a tad more teasing at your inhale and the instinctual spreading of goosebumps all over your flesh.
His hand wandered down over your naked stomach until it reached the band of your panties; a path he had walked on countless of times that he had no reason to look for the dip of your skin to push past the seam. Instead, he kept your eyes locked on his, your face turned to his direction, and you stood there, trying to keep your face from giving him any hints at how much you wished he would finally let his fingers dip south. But Issei knew you and he knew the slight quivering of your stomach at his touch, the hitch of your breath, the twitch of your eyebrow, the nearly inconspicuous swallowing and bobbing of your throat.
A few centimetres short from your clit, so close you could feel the heat of his fingertips vibrate in the space in between, he stopped, tilted his head at you and then—
He pulled his hands away and the snap of the band of your panties sounded out cruelly.
"H-hey, wait—"
He stepped back, not a lot of distance entering the space between you both, but the loss of his warm touch, the overbearing scent pressuring you into only existing within his confines had you try to suppress a shiver.
"Oh, my sweet darling girl wants to talk now, hm?" Issei chuckled, and there was nothing gentle about the way he called you his darling girl, "Since you want to be difficult, how about this: there'll be no play until you get on your knees and apologise for the way you misbehaved today."
Your lips pressed together frustratingly, but your cunt tingled at the order given, at the way his eyes watched you like he was searching for a reason to punish you, at the sparkle in his smile that promised you he was enjoying putting you on the spot and humiliating you.
"Take your time, love, I'll be right here."
You kept standing there, fighting with your pride at the condescension in his voice whilst he took his time seating himself on the couch, one leg of his draped over the other, still clad in the dark suit pants of his from the event earlier you both attended. In which you couldn't stop teasing him, loving the heated look he gave you, the disapproving narrowing of his eyes, the way his hands stayed so gentle when he snaked a hand to your backside to lead you out, but stayed silent all the way on the drive home.
But it wasn't your fault; he just looked so teasable with his curly hair so carefully styled, the tattoo peeking from underneath his collar, his hands so big holding a comically small champagne glass. Now he sat on the couch, that same hand loosening his tie as he stared at you, awaiting, patient.
Oh, how patient Matsukawa Issei was.
You knew, because the last time he had you standing for almost an hour until you finally submitted, and that was only because you grew jealous of the way his hands had palmed himself, his pretty cock thick and hard, messy with pre-cum and spit, head thrown back, his neck and throat on display as he groaned out, and you had sank down, babbling about how sorry you were and to please allow you to take over.
His eyes roamed over the tremble in your knees and he raised his eyebrows like he knew what you were thinking about, and only confirmed it when you pushed your jaw forward in annoyance at his hand landing on his bulge, sitting comfortably on his slacks.
His other hand waved the air like asking you: you know what you have to do, right?
With a blush spreading over your skin, in arousal and embarrassment, frustration and anticipation, you sank to your knees. Through gritted teeth, you pressed out: "I'm sorry."
"Surely, you can do better."
You huffed and your panties grew wetter, "I'm sorry for acting like a brat."
"Isn't there something missing, don't you think?"
You squirmed on the floor, knuckles pressing into your thighs, "Sir."
"Sir? Is that it, sweet girl? Ah, look at me," he said, his voice syrupy in its deep register, and you looked up, catching the amused glint in his eyes, "Come on, use your pretty little head. I know I fuck you dumb often enough but you've got more going on in there, I promise."
You inhaled a breath, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear, but your tongue stayed heavy. You didn't want to say it, didn't want to give him any more power over you like that, but there he was, his shoe whipping up and down leisurely, his eyes full with the understanding that infuriated you and turned you on so much as he saw you struggle to do as he said. Then he opened his mouth again, and with a low warning: "Keep your legs in check."
Instinctively, you stopped trying to get a semblance of stimulation by rubbing your thighs together, then squeezed your eyes in defeat, muttering, "Thank you, Sir, for tolerating my acting up and making me get on my knees."
Issei's shoe planted itself on the ground, and then there was a hand against your cheek, knuckles cool against your heated skin, and his breath was warm on your face, "Was that so hard, my darling girl?"
"Yes."
He laughed at that, and his hand shifted to grip your jaw, leaning forward, mouth catching your lips as his other hand wandered. When he spoke against you, the smell and taste of him penetrated your senses, "But you enjoy doing it, or else why would you get so wet, hm?"
His fingers rubbed your panties from the outside, smearing the wetness against your puffed up pussy lips and you gasped into his mouth. Using the opportunity, his tongue glided against yours, caressing the pink muscle softly as your panties got pushed to the side, and two of his fingers entered you, smoothly, hot, with purpose to find that soft, spongy spot inside your gummy walls.
You arched against him, messed up thighs opening wider as you followed his mouth with kiss after kiss, hips grinding against the sloppy fucking. There were wet squelches penetrating the air as he swallowed your whines, his other hand gripping your neck to keep you in place.
Thumb rubbing your clit, his long slender fingers continuously stretching you, the heat running through your veins, pooling low in your stomach grew hotter, and when your moans turned into grunts and short intakes of breath, he lifted his thumb and removed his fingers with a cruel plop. A whine escaped you and he let out a breathy chuckle, allowing your panties to cover you again.
"Ah, ah, not so fast, pretty," he mumbled against your swollen mouth, licking the spit off your chin, "You don't think you deserve to cum already, do you? Come on, my sweet, I told you to use your brain already. Let's take it from the beginning again, what do you say?"
You hated his patience, but still, you opened up willingly for him.