She hesitates, then tips the glass back and drains it, coughing as her eyes water.
Good.
I want to throw her off balance. I want her defenses to fall. I want to see what's beneath all that fear.
"Are you still wet from this afternoon?" The question comes out conversational. Like I'm asking about the weather.
Her face flushes red. "W-What?"
"You heard me." I take a drink of my own vodka, savoring the burn. "When I sent you away dripping and desperate. Did you touch yourself after? Or did you follow my order and suffer through it?"
"I—I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me, Valerie." I set my glass down and move toward her. "Not after the day we've had. Not when I can still taste you on my fingers."
She backs up instinctively. Hits the wall. Nowhere left to go.
I cage her in, hands braced on either side of her head, body close enough to feel her heat.
"Answer the question." My voice drops lower. "Are you still wet? Or did you make yourself come thinking about my hands on you?"
"I didn't touch myself." It comes out strangled. "Y-You said not to."
"And you obeyed?" Surprise filters through the hunger. "Good girl."
My hand slides down her side, over her hip, to the hem of her skirt. She tenses but doesn't move away.
"Let me check." My fingers slide under the fabric, up her thigh, and she makes this sound—half protest, half plea.
When I reach the juncture of her thighs, I find exactly what I expected.
No underwear. Still.
And soaking wet.
"Fuck." The word comes out rough. "You've been wet all day, haven't you? Walking around my house, taking care of my daughter, dripping for me."
"I'm not—" But her protest dies when my fingers slide through her wetness. "Oh, men."
"Not men." I press closer, until she can feel exactly how hard I am. "Me. Say my name, Valerie."
"Lev—"
"Again."
"Lev, please—"
"Please what?" My fingers circle her clit, and she gasps. "Please stop? Please continue? Please fuck you properly this time?"
She can't answer. Just stares at me with those eyes that are more pupil than iris, breathing fast, body trembling.
And I see it.
That flash of darkness underneath the fear. That moment where she stops being the terrified mouse and becomes something else.
Something that wants this. Craves it. Would take everything I give her and ask for more.
There you are, viper.
