After taking three steps back, Dexter’s eyes slowly rise to meet mine. They take their time, absorbing my pressed thighs, quivering stomach, and eratically panting chest on the way. When his eyes finally reach my face, that tingling sensation I mentioned earlier doubles. The hunger in his eyes is even more noticeable than it was twenty minutes ago, his penis more than three times its original size. It is seeping with want and throbbing with need.
“If you remove your bra, I’ll let you keep your panties.” The voice he uses this time is one I’ve never heard. It is husky and raw, and in all honesty, pulse-quickening.
When I shake my head, wordlessly denying his demand, he takes a step closer to me. The fire in his eyes warns me he’ll remove my bra as viciously as he did my dress, but that isn’t my greatest concern. It is his rapidly thickening penis. It is growing at a rate my hazy mind can’t comprehend.Is that normal? Should it grow so fast that angry, pulsating veins throb all over it?
Nick’s penis only grew like that just before he. . .
I can’t say it.
I won’t say it.
I hate her.
My eyes lift from Dexter’s penis when he warns, “This is your last chance, Claudia. Remove your bra, or I’ll do it for you.” His tone reveals his demand isn’t a suggestion.
My eyes drift to the only window in the cabin. A spark of lightning breaks through the dark clouds, adding to the eerie sensation bristling between Dexter and me. The air in the cabin is roasting, making me confused as to why Dexter’s campaign is so vehement. The energy teeming between us makes a furnace unnecessary, much less the heat of his massively dilated eyes raking over my scarcely covered body.
Not wanting to weather a storm in panties and a bra, and interested in exploring a set of emotions I’ve never felt, I return my eyes to Dexter. The tick in his jaw lessens when I start to unhook my bra.
As one arm lowers my bra to the ground, the other maintains my modesty. I don’t know why I bothered. The instant my bra hits the dusty floorboards, Dexter curls his arms around my back and drags me toward his thick, bumpy body. His steps to the bed seem long and drawn out, as if he wants to keep me in his arms forever.
Disturbed by my inaccurate assessment of the situation, my eyes stray to the pill bottle on the floor. I really should take my medication, as the thoughts streaming through my head right now don’t belong to a sane woman.
I love Nick.
My heart belongs to him.
So why am I hoping Dexter will keep me forever?
