Best. Fucking. Command.
possession
Sometimes, he’s just going to have her lie there with her mouth open, waiting for when he is finished. He’ll do all the work himself and she’ll just have to taste it. It’s not the preferred arrangement, but sometimes she needs to be reminded that it’s not all about her.
It’s his. And you can’t see it.
It doesn’t matter that she wishes you could. Or that she’s hoping he’ll spread his middle and ring fingers, opening her lips to you as an invitation. Or that she’s been looking at you with that same coy smile all day, letting thoughts of you taking that which he has hidden from you tumble around her mind.
You wonder if she’s wet under that hand. Part of you already knows the answer to that. You wonder what she tastes like. That you don’t know the answer to. He won’t grant you the privilege of that knowledge.
She’s surrendered herself to him this way out of her own free will. He chooses who sees her, who touches her, who tastes her, who fucks her. And he chooses who she gets to see, touch, taste and fuck. Judging by the hand going over her eyes, he can tell what you’re doing with her mind. And you can tell that you’ve clearly overstayed your welcome in there.