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“Spread your legs,” I told her, and my voice was laced with malice.
That’s when that zing of herself rang loud and clear. Light to my dark. Her answer was simple.
“No.”
“Spread your legs,” I told her again, but she shook her head.
“Make me, Morelli. I’m not just a little pet who’s going to dance to your beat.”
I closed the distance between us, loving how she flinched as I stepped up to her.
“Oh, you’re a little pet, Elaine. You’re going to dance nice and hard to my beat.”
My dick was straining in my pants, and my mouth was watering. Her breaths were every bit as shallow and fast as I imagined. I could almost hear her heartbeat thumping.
My words were growls, and the dynamic shifted between us.
“Spread your fucking legs.”
She shuddered, wanting. She couldn’t help but want me.
“Do it,” I whispered. “Do it like a dirty little girl.”
She liked that. Fuck, she liked that. I could feel it.
My cock liked it too. My cock liked it when Elaine Constantine shifted her legs apart like a dirty little girl.
I crept my fingers up her thigh nice and slowly, tickling. She flinched as my thumb brushed her slit through her wet panties, breaths growing more shallow as I teased.
“I’m going to hurt your pussy,” I told her. “I’m going to hurt your pussy so fucking bad you’re going to cry for me.”
“At least fuck me first.”
“You’ll have to earn that,” I said. “Earn my cock like a good little toy dolly.”
There was something about my words that were resonating. I could feel her tension.
“Rub your slit on my fingers,” I told her. “Make yourself come like a slut.”
I teased her, coaxed her, tickling her pussy enough to make her tense up.
I don’t know how we did it, descended into such a natural dance of flesh. The dam broke in my dirty girl and she braced herself on me, arms wrapping around my shoulders as she let her hips do the work.
She rubbed her slit on my fingers, fast. She was desperate, walls breaking as her butterfly colors shimmied.
I wouldn’t help her. My fingers were strong and still against her as she worked for her thrill.
“Put them inside me,” she whispered. “Please.”
But no. I wouldn’t put them inside her.
“Rub your slit,” I hissed. “Come like a slut.”
“Help me,” she said. “Help me come.”
But no. I wouldn’t help her come. I wanted the filthy little dolly to do it all on her own.
“What do you think about when you touch your clit at night?” I asked her with a growl. “What makes you wet, Elaine?”
The question made her rub harder, putting more weight against my fingers.
“Tell me,” I snarled. “What makes you wet, Elaine?”
“Help me,” she whispered. “Help me come . . . please . . .”
“What makes you wet, Elaine?”
Her rhythm became faster, harder.
“Please, Lucian . . . help me . . .”
“What makes you touch your clit at night, little girl?”
She was shivering, desperate. Her arms were gripping me tight.
“Please, Lucian . . .”
I knew she’d done it before. I knew she’d come for people.
“Did they make you touch yourself?” I asked her. “Did they make you touch yourself as they hurt you?”
She tensed, even as she rubbed against me.
Yes. They made her touch herself as they hurt her. I knew it. I knew they hurt her, and I knew they made her like it.
The thought made me hard and full of hate, both at once.
Who the fuck had played with Elaine Constantine?
“They did it, didn’t they?” I whispered. “They made you want it?”
It tipped her over the edge like a horny little bitch. Her shudder was intense, her bucks so frantic as she cried out. The dolly’s back arched as she broke herself and came for me. She was lost, her body giving up the fight. Elaine Constantine came against my fingers like the dirty little slut I wanted her to be.
And then I lost her. She came to her senses with a frown, pulling herself away from me with eyes full of spite. She grabbed her scrap of a dress up from the floor and held it tight.
“Fuck you, Lucian! I didn’t want it! They could never make me want it. They were repulsive pieces of shit to me.”
“If only your clit believed you. It seems your own body struggles with your lies along with the rest of the world.”
That’s when I saw the crack into her soul, right into the depths of her broken little girl heart.
It was absolutely fucking beautiful.
“Just kill me,” she snapped. “Do me a favor and get it fucking over with, will you? I mean it, Morelli, I’m fucking done!”
Oh, but if only she knew . . .
If only she knew that her death was the furthest from my mind it had ever been.
My games were only just getting started.
