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My eyes fluttered as I focused on Jay. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Didn’t seem at all affected by the woman in front of him pleasuring herself at his command.
Until I looked down.
He was hard, straining against the fabric of his crotch. He was big.
My pussy cried out for him. For that. For him to fuck me.
Jay stepped forward. I held my breath as he brushed his body against mine, his hardness pressed against me.
My body thrummed with expectation, with blind need. I ached to rip at his clothes, to sink my nails into his skin, marking him just like he’d marked me without even touching me.
Just when I expected him to move, to finally fucking touch me, he spoke instead. “Very good, Stella. You can get dressed now.”
It took a second for his words to penetrate. To understand what was going on.
“What was that?” I hissed, my voice far too raspy to inject my anger in to it.
“That,” he murmured against my lips, his hand moving down my rib cage to my hip and ghosting over the edge of my panties, “is me wooing you.”
He stepped back, and I stumbled forward, my body moving with him of its own volition. I quickly straightened, my skin singed by his touch, need pulsating throughout my blood.
“You want this,” he said, his eyes on me, not moving down to where my nipples were standing at attention or at my skimpy panties that told him all he needed to know about my waxing preferences. There was something innately unnerving and erotic about knowing that he could’ve been staring at my exposed body but instead focused his eyes on mine.
“I know you tell yourself you’re a good girl,” he continued, his voice like velvet. “You want to think that you’re just the same as everyone else in this town. This world. You think you want the dinners, the fucking brunches and the vanilla.” He stepped forward, his hand circling my throat with a feather light touch that contained an erotic ferocity that hungered me.
I wanted him to tighten his hand, wanted him to rip off my panties and take me right there, no foreplay, no tenderness. I was quivering under it. That need.
His hands flexed ever so slightly, and he leaned forward, his eyes always on mine. “But you’re not vanilla. Whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself won’t work now. This may not be what you want, but it’s what you need. We both know it.”
Then he released me, stepping back again. I didn’t let my body stumble forward again, though I was close to begging him for more. I didn’t recognize myself. He was coaxing something dark and carnal out of me, and we hadn’t even fucking kissed yet. Hell, he’d somehow gotten me down to my underwear with just his words.
That tongue of his was too smooth and too tempting not to be that of the devil. Coaxing me to sin, to give in to the darkest of my desires.
He was that.
Pure sin.
“You can get dressed now,” he informed me, moving to sit at his desk.
I looked where my dress was on the floor then up to him clicking at his computer as if there wasn’t a half-naked woman standing in front of him.
The urge to cover myself was almost overwhelming, but I fought against all my instincts. There was a purpose to this. The way he was acting. He wanted me. A lot. More than maybe even he realized. But he also wanted to communicate that he had all the power, the power to change things in a moment. That he was in command. He didn’t want to humiliate me, but he wanted to awaken those feelings of submission, show me he could control me if he so wished.
That’s why he’d stayed dressed. That’s why my naked dress was on the floor. He’d wanted me to taste humiliation, need and disappointment on the same tongue.
He’d made his point by sitting at the desk, staring at the computer, so his lifted his gaze to me once more. There was a cruelty there. A satisfaction. He’d liked this. Liked what he’d done to me.
I kept my back straight, my body still fully exposed as I moved unhurriedly to retrieve my dress from the floor then slipped it over my head. My eyes stayed on Jay’s as I zipped it up, and somehow, the act of putting the dress on was more erotic than taking it off. There was power in my gaze, in my unwillingness to look away, my refusal to hide from his scrutiny. If he wanted to dissect me, fine. He could do it under my observation, with me trying to dissect him right back.
The air hummed with our silence, with what had happened, both of us left wanting.
Jay broke his gaze by focusing back on his computer, clicking and typing again. I wondered if he was actually doing anything or just going through the motions as part of another game, challenge, distraction, whatever.
