Simon would've been merciful had you said the magic word but you wouldn't budge for shit, not even the pleasure of a well-deserved and long-overdue orgasm.
So there you are, pissed beyond belief, having staggered into the bathroom after he denied you yet again. The bastard got his, though.
Frustrated tears pricked your eyes, the sweat was cooling on your skin, your knees still trembled from being fucked so good, and fuck you would've loved this had you come.
Your knees gave out and there you were on the bathroom floor, a fucking wreck. "Fuck you, Simon."
Then you felt his big paw on his head. Oh, he heard you. He heard you loud and clear. You looked up and you were face-to-face with his cock, half-hard, leaking the remnants of his orgasm, and covered in you. Fuck.
"You did already, sweetheart," he grunts out, sweaty, satisfied yet ready for more, and you're just... just—"Fuck you. Fuck ALL of you, Simon." And what does your behemoth of a man do but simply let you lean against him, cock pressed against your cheek as you rant and rave and bitch and moan and "Let me come..."
"Say it." At this point, you're practically nuzzling your face against his dick you want it so bad. You kiss it oh-so-gently, oh-so-reverently and god, it twitched. Pride be damned, you needed this. "Please..."
And you could feel the smugness emanating from Simon.