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The silence rang in my ears and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to bang my head against the wall.
Even when he was not around, memories of him and what he did stayed with me.
I’d never admit this but… the way he’d taken her, so rough, so … domineering … held top spot in my fantasy charts.
I wanted a touch like that. I wanted to be … owned, my body a plaything. A desire I’d never admit to him or anyone, even under duress.
But in my heart of hearts, in the farthest reaches of the dungeon within me, I could be myself. Never out in the open.
So here’s the thing that made me the most mad: Iwantedhim.
Wanted him to play my body like he had that woman.
But more than he’d done with her, I wanted him to make me come, over and over.
The very notion made both my gut roil and my body pulse in need.
Sick—that’s what I was.
Could one hate a person, yet crave their touch?
Apparently, yes.
I ran my hand down my thigh, thinking I could at least ease the throbbing tension in my body. NowthisI could do. This, I had control over.
And in his eyes, it was all about control.Hiscontrol over me.
But right now, I was the mistress of my own pleasure. I could do what I wanted in this moment—maybe the only thing I had left, to show myself I still had a degree of free will. I needed this to believe the illusion I was still able to make decisions.
As I touched myself, I recalled what I had been dreaming about. Strange as it seemed, my inner voice told me to let go, so I could learn about who I was.
Slowly and steadily, my breathing intensified as I kept caressing my inner thigh, barely touching my pubic hair.
I was past wanting things to make sense. I was figuring things out, drawing my own map of the situation, and that was about all I could do.
As I made myself comfortable on the sofa, the camera shifted its lens on me, confirming my suspicions. My moans came out muffled as I wouldn’t let him hear my pleasure at first. But the thought of him watching me now set me on fire.
I bit my button lip and spread my legs wider to have better access to my sex. The sudden spike of desire and arousal made me think twice about what I was just about to do. In any other circumstance, Sebastian would have probably ordered me to stop, control freak that he was, but at this moment, I fully intended to come.
I owned this moment, and I couldn’t deprive myself any longer or I’d drive myself crazy.
Pulling my robe apart, I revealed my naked breasts.
My nipples were hard and aching as I moved my fingers over them, while with my other hand, I caressed my clit. A tremor shot through my core. I was soaking wet. Hot and ready for that bastard. He hadn't even so much as touched me, or showed me he’d want to in any way, yet but I couldn’t get him out of my head—like a lovesick bitch during heat season.
As I dipped my fingers into my folds, my whole sex throbbed with a mix of delight and disappointment he wasn’t the one doing this to me. The camera didn’t move again, but the light was on.
He was there—I felt it.
With a boldness I’d never expressed before, I pulled out my fingers from my wetness and ran them over my stomach. Then, I brought them to my mouth and licked them, tasting myself.
My heart pounded in my chest as I resumed massaging my clit. My limbs trembled and goose pimples broke all over my skin.
I imagined his dark eyes staring down at me, watching as my sex ached for him, waiting for him to enter me. Sebastian was truly terrifying in reality, so deep down I figured this had nothing to do with attraction to him as a man.
So, what was this new, alien feeling I was grappling with?
A slow, uncontrolled moan escaped my lips as I rubbed my sticky fingers over my clit, then slid down my wet pussy. My earlier resolve to not show him my pleasure flew right out the window.
