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A low moan of fear. A sob that caught in her throat.
I smiled and committed her sounds of distress to memory. They almost killed the last bits of my self-control.
I chuckled low.
“No, no, please!”
This didn’t sound like an act. She was legitimately afraid. Of course she was—doing this was not the same as imagining it.
Maybe she knew I wasn’t him?
The roar of my desires eventually proved too much to resist, and I grabbed her coat and pulled. She fell backward, but I caught her and let her spin to the ground, careful to stop her from face-planting into that gravel.
Her hair flew about, tossed by wind and momentum, and she was shrieking.
If her real play partner showed up now, I was fucked.
No glass was visible. No large rocks. I didn’t want her cut…or not here or now, and definitely not her face.
Getting this done fast hindered my need to watch her reactions. My fist trapped enough of her hair to force her to flatten onto the ground, then I straddled her and landed a knee on her back.
She spluttered, “Safeword? Safeword!”
I looked around, amused she’d forgotten she hadn’t wanted one. The only occupants of the night-darkened road were the howling wind, the skitter of a few bits of paper, dust, and us. Half a mile of nobody at all watching.
She tried to claw me, but her nails were puny weapons and didn’t connect with anything except cloth. Not giving up? Good. I pressed one scrabbling hand under my knee while the other I thrust to the dirt beside her head. Her slim fingers splayed in the dirt. I stared. Fuck. I had her.
I’d fucking done it.
A shard of glass shone near her face, and I shifted her to the right. It felt odd to be rudely taking her down then doing this.
With most of my weight on her back, she must be hurting. I leaned down and licked her ear, tasting her for the first time. My nostrils flared at the scent, as if I were drinking a vintage Cabernet Sauvignon—one laid down for a decade and waiting for me to feel it wash across my tongue.
I let a shuddering thrill dissipate before I spoke. The rasp in my voice was unexpected. “Safeword?” I let that sink in. “There is no fucking safeword.”
“Asshole,” she spat.
Asshole?
How far could I take this in a week? How low, how dirty? I rummaged in the murky, forbidden parts of my mind. There were things I’d never dared to do. Not on a willing sub.
Deliberately, I transferred more of my weight to my knee while I found and shook out the tie. After a pained gasp, and a writhe of her lower body as she attempted to rise, her mouth stayed wide.
She wanted real?
This was real.
