“Please…” I choked out. “Beckham. I-I can’t. Please.”
He grabbed one of my wrists. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to remind me how easily he could pull me back: effortlessly.
“You can…” he assured, his voice calm, ignoring my anxious and desperate plea.
I tried to get away, but I felt myself melt in his hold as he leaned into my neck and inhaled deeply. I held back a moan as he groaned.
“You’re going to drive me fucking crazy,”he whispered.
I couldn’t help the way my body reacted. He asserted such dominance, but without excessive control or power. I was starting to lose myself in him.
I had to stop.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered as though reading my thoughts—and then he placed an open-mouthed kiss on my neck.
“Beckham,” I moaned.
In that moment he must have lost it. He attacked my lips in a passionate kiss, suffocating me in him. I brought my hands up to his hair as he pulled me closer, my hands tugging at his hair as he possessively took control of me. He demanded entry into my mouth like he’d been waiting an age for this moment.
Pull away. Pull away. Pull away.
His tongue danced in my mouth as if he was starving, flicking in and out until the only thing I could only breathe in was him. His hand traveled to my breast, and I gasped as he greedily squeezed it in his palm, causing me to whine in pain, my back arching into his touch.
His teeth grazed my bottom lip, his grip tightening just enough to make my breath hitch.
He pulled away and turned me around to face the mirror. There, I could see my flushed face, slightly messy hair—swollen, wet and plump lips.
He groaned. “Let me show you what it means when a man fucking cherishes you.”
I threw my head back as both of his hands were on my breasts, groping and squeezing. He continued kissing my neck, and I practically saw stars as he toyed with my bud between his fingers, gripping my body like he owned it.
I looked away from the mirror, closing my eyes—
“Open your fucking eyes,” he ordered.
I squeezed them shut tighter. I couldn’t open them. If I looked, if I saw what he was doing to me, how much I was letting him take…I didn’t know if I would be able to stop.
Tears sprang as he manhandled me, groping me harder until a desperate whine surfaced at the pain, forcing my eyes open. The mirror showed he had complete control over my body. I jumped as I felt him grind into my ass, my core clenching at the length of him.
“You feel what you do to me? You feel that?” he rasped in my ear. “Do you feel how much I want to fuck your little wet cunt? To make you choke on my cock, fucking use you as my own little sex doll, fucking breed your little pussy until you can’t take anymore? Hmmm, Flower?”
I had to stop him… because I could already imagine him taking me against his desk with my hands behind my back. My words were caught in my throat, conflicted between telling him to stop or begging him for more.
Stop him.
“So fucking sexy,” he purred in my ear.
I whimpered softly.
I had to stop.
“Stop… Stop. Stop!”I said, out of breath, and just like that, his hands were off me.
My chest heaved. My fingers trembled as I snatched up my things, my body still flushed, aching,ruined.
He looked frustrated, restrained, primal…Like he was letting his prey get away.With a sharp exhale, he shoved a hand through his hair, jaw clenching.
I turned for the door, my steps quick, desperate to escape. He didn’t try to stop me. But I felt the heat of his stare, the way it burned into my back as I exited his studio and went straight for my car.
