Page 114 of Depraved

“Yet here you are, naked, and practically dripping for me.”

“What gives you that idea?”

I grinned. “Because you smell like sex, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” I reached out, cupped her pussy, and watched as her mouth formed the perfect ‘o.’ She was so wet, I could easily slip a single digit through her inner lips, all the way from her clit to her entrance and back again.

Her moan was involuntary as a shudder wracked through her.

“You like that, don’t you? My touch.”

She didn’t answer me…at least not with her mouth. But her eyes spoke volumes, burning with a hunger I so easily recognized.

I smiled. “Your friend is right. You are a masochist, liking my touch so much.”

“I wonder whose fault is that.”

The sneer in her voice was loud and clear, and I reacted to it by grabbing her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Do you want to be here?”

Her eyes searched mine.

I gripped her jaw tighter. “I asked you a question. Do you want to be here?”

“I don’t see my answer making any difference.”

“It will determine whether or not you like what I’m about to do to you.”

Blue irises gleamed with defiance. “A moment ago, when you slipped a finger between my legs, you were pretty convinced this is what I want.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I let go of her jaw, slowly starting to circle her, my gaze traveling over her naked body inch by inch. “Tell me one thing.”

She glanced at me over her naked shoulder.

“If I had to set you free…would you run?”

Her gaze dropped. “Would you if you were me?”

I pressed my naked front against her back. “In a heartbeat.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me.”

Wrapping my arms around her middle, I picked her up. “My stupid, naïve ballerina girl.” I carried her to the bed, putting her feet on the ground before forcing her to bend forward with my hand pushing down on her spine.

“Remember the first time? When I told you it was going to hurt?”

She nodded, already twisting the sheets between her fingers.

“Well, this is going to hurt more.”

I licked my fingers, even though I knew she didn’t need it, and slipped my hand between her legs while her pussy bloomed with her ass in the air. I grabbed my cock and squeezed as the head tingled with a need to fuck. Up and down I pumped my length, needing a little relief from the ache. I thrust forward, sliding my cock up her ass cheeks, letting her feel it against her skin. Her hips bucked, pushing backward in search of it. But I denied her by pulling back, this time tracing the tip of my cock against the round flesh of her ass.

She whimpered, and the sound was like a lightning bolt that struck right down my spine, slamming against my balls. Jesus.

I wanted to push inside her. I wanted to fill her to the brim, fuck her until my name was a prayer on her lips. But I needed her to want this. I needed her to tell me this was more than just my own selfish needs.

“Do you want this, ballerina girl? Do you want my cock? Do you want me to fuck you?”

I leaned over her and cupped one of her breasts, and it earned me another deep moan from her lips.

“I’m not fucking you unless you tell me this is what you want.”