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I get to my feet, relieved to find my legs toughen up enough to hold me steady. I pace straight up to him, close enough that the gorgeous scent I know so well hits me in the temples, and I keep my eyes dead on his as I pluck the champagne flute from his fingers and raise it to my mouth.
He nods, ever so slightly.
I’m close enough to see the fine lines around his eyes. The faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. The tiny birthmark on his right cheek.
“I have no hard limits,” I say. “I didn’t lie.”
He stares right through me. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’ll do anything you want.”
“Anything I want?” His eyes are cold, and it hurts, but I’m excited. A flicker between my thighs that wants to throw myself on the floor at his feet and beg him to take me. Beg him to do it all, every dirty thing he’s ever dreamed of.
“Anything,” I whisper.
“Fine,” he says. “Then let’s do anything I want.”
He takes the glass from my fingers and the clutch bag from my shoulder. He places them both on the dresser and takes me by the hand.
My fingers clasp his as he pulls me through to the bathroom and flicks on the light.
It’s a harsh contrast to the softness of the bedroom, my eyes blink as I adjust.
His hand pulls from mine and lands on my shoulder, firm as he demands I drop to my knees.
He points to a spot at the side of the toilet, and I shuffle along until he positions himself before me, his hand on my head.
“Anything, Amy, are you sure?”
“Positive,” I tell him.
He unbuckles his belt and steps closer, and my heart jumps. He takes out his cock, and it’s bigger than I expected, much bigger than I pictured. He’s already hard, the head of him swollen dark.
He takes a handful of hair and tips my head back, but my eyes are still on his cock, watching his hand move back and forth.
Transfixed.
I’m transfixed.
I want to touch him so bad but I’m scared. Scared I’ll do it wrong.
“Look at me,” he says, and I do. I do look at him, staring up into eyes that show no emotion whatsoever, even though my heart is spilling out through mine. “I’m going to piss in your mouth and you’re going to swallow every drop, do you understand me?”
My poor heart hammers. “Yes.”
I clench my thighs, and even though this isn’t what I planned, isn’t for a second what I dreamed of, I still want this. I still want him. Still want everything.
“I understand,” I say.
“Open your mouth. Nice and wide.”
I open my mouth nice and wide. Position myself right under his cock, my tongue out and waiting, my eyes on his, even though I’m so scared I could be sick, even though my nerves are jangling and my clit is going crazy between my legs.
I whimper as he presses the head of his cock to my bottom lip, but I don’t pull away, not even for a heartbeat.
I take a breath, and grip his thighs to keep me steady.
“If you spill a single drop I’m going to make you lick it from the floor.”
I stick my tongue out further ready to catch the flow.
“Are you ready?”
I nod, just a tiny tip of the head.
“Drink it all down like a good girl.”
I keep my eyes on his.
I’m ready. I’m really ready. My fingers squeeze his thighs, my eyes wide open. Do it. Just do it.
“Very good,” he says.
He turns away from me and aims the stream for the toilet.
I gawk in shock, watching that stream of piss as it lands innocently in the bowl.
“Did I do something wrong?” My voice is so pathetic.
“Not at all,” he says, and shakes himself off. He fastens his trousers and flushes the chain, then lathers his hands in the sink and dries them off. “It infuriates me when people bluff.”
“But I wasn’t bluffing…” I tell him.
“Yes,” he says. “I know.”
“Then what?” I begin, but he cuts me off, taking hold of my elbow to lift me to my feet.
“It was a test,” he tells me. “You passed.”
“I passed?!”
He smiles and it’s beautiful. “Yes, Amy. You passed.”
I really don’t think I should say thanks, so I don’t. “Don’t you want to… do that?”
He smirks. “Lord, no. What the hell do you take me for?” He steps back into the bedroom. “You haven’t even finished your champagne yet.” He gestures to the bottle still chilling. “Anyway, piss play isn’t really my thing.”
“It’s not?” I think of all the porn I’ve seen at his house. All the times I’ve watched men pee all over women on screen.
“No. It’s not.”
I follow him out. “So, um… what now?” I ask, and I realise my breath is steadier. My nerves evening out.
