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I want to ruin this man.
Ruin him for any man or woman who wants him—and there are plenty.
I want to own him, and he wants to be diminished to nothing but a being who knows only pleasure and pain.
Still, I force myself to finish my task, and then I force myself to walk steadily from the library back to the dorms. Keep my breathing controlled. My footsteps are heavy and measured.
I don’t know if Shiloh will be there, but I hope he will. I hope he feels the desire for what I offer the same way I feel the desire to dole it out.
The handle feels heavy under my palm as I listen for sounds inside the room. It’s quiet. So if he’s here he’s not trashing the place. That’s a good sign at least for someone who was asked to wait for an ass beating from someone he can’t stand.
My hopes aren’t high, but as the door creaks open the sound of short, breathy grunts become audible. I shut the door quietly but quickly to avoid prying ears, and with the afternoon sunlight streaming through the curtains, I catch Shiloh’s challenging brown eyes from the head of my bed.
I want to pounce him.
I want to give him the aggression he so desperately craves.
But I have to work my way there.
I need him to understand the slow build to satisfaction.
The battle that leads to the war.
One day I could walk in on a sleeping Shiloh, and we’ll be deep enough into it that I can crawl into bed and sink inside him without even a whispered hello. I could fuck him until he gasps awake and cries my name as I pull orgasm after orgasm from his weeping dick. I’d make him scream until I’m ready to fill him with come.
It’s an unlikely fantasy, but one that already has my cock aching in my jeans. One that’s fed by the choked out moans coming from the man watching my every move.
The man—naked except for a navy blue pair of boxers—with his hand stroking beneath his waistband.
Those eyes follow me as I toe my shoes off near the desk, as I hang my coat on the back of my computer chair.
He arches his back when I step closer but ceases his movements when I sit on the edge of the bed. I circle my fingers around his wrist and gently tug it free.
His body trembles, but his eyes are far from submissive.
“What’s with the look? Touching is allowed.”
I guide his hand to my lips and gently draw the tip of a finger into my mouth. His chest shudders, lips part, and eyes widen. He yanks his hand away before I get a taste, so I change tactics and lay my palm on his thigh with a dull thump.
“You did as I asked,” I say, inching my fingers inward and carefully watching his reaction. “You know what that means?”
Shiloh’s eyes flicker from my face to my hand and back. He settles on my face and squares his shoulders where he’s propped on a pillow.
“It means you get to play with me.”
My grin is wide and on display. “Is that so?”
He gulps right as I slip my fingers into the opening of his boxers. There’s no silicone in the way, and I brush his hard cock immediately. His hard, wet cock as it throbs against my touch.
“It means this sweet, little dick right here? The one you’ve rubbed so sensitive you’re jolting at the slightest brush?” I slide two fingers around the base of his t-dick, dragging the wetness to the head and pinching in between my finger and thumb.
His hips buck off the bed, and I brace a hand on his chest to force him down flat.
“It means this dick is mine. I will play with it how I see fit. You’ll come whenever and however I want you to, and not unless I want you to.”
He opens his mouth as if to protest, but I squeeze his cock and all that comes out is a moan.
“Good boy. Now, I need you to answer some questions for me.”
