Page 94 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

He gazed appreciatively at my body, and then reached forward, taking one of my breasts in his hand. My chest pounded, breaths coming shorter and sharper now as I leaned into him, revelling in the feel of his huge, warm hand as he squeezed and massaged me. The beat of my heart began to match the gentle beat between my thighs as my core grew slick and needy. And I closed my eyes to savour the feel of him all around me, consuming my very soul.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Emma. Now get the rest of this off and lie in the middle of the bed. I want to see you. All of you.”

His voice was gruff, low and sexy as he commanded me to do what he wanted.

My eyes drifted open, my body spiralling in a haze of lust as I watched his hand drop to his side and he took a step back.

“Come on, Emma. Don’t keep me waiting,” he urged, and the feral look, the hunger in his eyes spurred me on.

I wanted to please him. I wanted to do anything to keep this going. To throw the old Emma out of the window and embrace this new-found confidence. This Emma was ready to throw caution to the wind. Her life had been a disaster lately, but now, she was ready to set a different kind of blaze alight. A fire that was currently burning inside me, growing and spreading rapidly, promising the sweetest explosion at the end. Hopefully more than one, if I was lucky.

I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor, exposing myself to him, and I swear he gave a low growl before telling me, “I always knew you’d be perfect. You’re fucking stunning.”

Hearing those words made me feel so special. Out of everyone, he wanted me. That realisation made me bolder, tempting me to tease him more. I slid my fingers under the fabric of my panties, but I didn’t take them off yet.

“Are you gonna...” I was going to ask if he would take his clothes off too, but he tutted and shook his head.

“Did I say you could speak? No. Not yet. Clothes off. Get on the bed. Then you can make all the noises you want. But until then...”

Fuck.

He was taking what he wanted and I loved it. The dominant side to him was coming out to play and I couldn’t wait for more.

With my eyes pinned to his, holding his stare, I did as I was told, pulling my panties down my legs. Briefly, he broke eye contact to watch my movements, scanning my body and focusing on my bare pussy with fire burning in his eyes. I stood in front of him for a second, completely naked, feeling so fucking powerful as he took deep breaths and smiled to himself. He was picturing all the things he wanted to do to me; I knew that. I was doing the same.

My body thrummed with need as I climbed onto his bed and crawled seductively to the middle, my bare ass swaying, giving him a show. Then I turned around and lay down just like he’d asked.

“Good girl,” he praised, standing at the bottom of the bed, prolonging our pleasure by making me wait for him. “Now open your legs and show me that pretty pussy. I want to see how wet you are.”

I opened my legs, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Wider,” he commanded, and I obliged. “Stunning. So fucking stunning... and soaked too. I knew you would be.” He tilted his head; eyes fixed between my legs. “A hot, dripping wet pussy made just for me. Now show me how you make yourself come.”

I didn’t speak. That’s how he wanted it. But I kept my eyes on him as I traced my fingers down my body, cupping my breasts before skating over my stomach and reaching between my legs. I started to run the tips of my fingers through my pussy, and I couldn’t help but give a quiet moan as I felt a bolt of electric pleasure the moment my fingertip touched my swollen clit. He liked that. He quietly moaned too.

“That feels good, doesn’t it? Keep going. Make yourself feel good for me. Show me what you look like when you come.”

I did as he said, rubbing over my clit, squirming on the bed as my legs shook and my body ached for release. My orgasm was building, and I couldn’t wait to get to that blissful end.

“When was the last time you did this?” he asked.

“Last night.” My voice was breathy, words spilling out as I tried to focus on reaching my pinnacle.

“And did you think of me?” The darkness in his gaze made the ripples of desire pulse faster through my body.

“Yes.”

He blinked slowly, like the thought of me getting off to the image of him was intoxicating, and he started to unbutton his shirt as he said, “Tell me what you’re doing. I need to hear it. I want to know what a dirty girl you are.”

“I’m stroking my pussy.”

“I want more. Give me details. Explicit details. I want to know what you’re feeling. What you like. What turns you on.”

I swallowed, already feeling immense tension building from the intensity of his stare. And as I started to describe it for him, that intensity grew stronger, the ripples now waves, throbbing and pulsating through me. I couldn’t help but lift my hips slightly and rock against my fingers, chasing more.

“I feel... I...” I let my head fall back; the bliss my fingers were creating were making it hard to speak. “The pulse, the wave, I’m almost there, but not yet.”

“Go on,” he urged. Need evident in his voice. “I need more.”