Making Jill Valentine say please before you let her eat you out.
Like imagine, she's got you on the edge of the bed, she's on her knees, the only thing separating her and her favorite thing in the world is a thin strip of fabric. She expects easy access. Well, maybe not expects, more that she has become accustomed to it.
So she goes to pull down your underwear and you stop her hands with one of yours, propped up on one elbow. Her eyes flick up to yours from where they were focused on your covered cunt, mildly confused.
You're smiling, but there's something more to it, something unfamiliar. She pouts, genuinely. Her lips, glossy with her spit, pull downward as her eyebrows come together.
"Are you okayâ" she starts, but the look on your face stops her.
"Say 'please'," you instruct.
Jill opens her mouth to speak but closes it, head cocking to the side. What was mild confusion has turned to something more. She's taken aback, but God, that did something for her.
"You want it so bad, say 'please'," you push.
This is not brattiness, she's realizing. Not a game you're playing.
She blinks, many times in quick succession. You'd think you'd just smacked the poor woman. Heat pools in her lower belly and between her thighs.
She's not quite sure what's more humiliating: The fact that this little show of how much power you hold over her is turning her on, or the fact that she might actually do it.
But there's no way you mean it.
"You're bluffing," Jill calls it.
You just tilt your head. "Am I?"
You're serious. You're actually being serious.
Jill has never been one to beg, in fact, you're usually the one doing so.
Jill really considers her options here. Well, there's really only one. It presents itself the reluctant little, "please," that escapes her mouth.
You look pleased, the corner of your mouth quirking upward, you lick your lips.
"Think you can do better than that," you say, voice sweet enough to be sickening. "Don't you, Valentine?"
She closes her eyes through a deep exhale. She's learning a lot about herself right now. Her skin burns, she shifts searching for friction in her jeans. Fuck, she just wants to taste you.
"Please," she repeats. It's more what you're looking for, showcasing exactly how bad she needs you.
"Fuck, you're evil, you know that?" she mutters, looking up at you still through your spread legs.
You tilt your head again, legs shifting slightly closer together. She panics, it all comes out.
"Please let me eat you out, God," she spills. "I wanna make you feel goodâ Fuck, please, let me make you feel good."
You consider her for just a moment, reaching out to brush short strands from her face. Of course you're being super sweet to her while actively prying away her dignity. You chuckle, you're clearly impressed with yourself.
"Yeah, baby, you can do that," you nod, lifting your hips up.
She's so quick to snatch at your underwear that her nails unintentionally scrape your skin. She wastes no time teasing, you covered that. She dives right in, messy and loud.
You catalog this, before Jill knocks any coherent thoughts out of your head. This might be something you need to revisit in the future.
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