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He sounds so ominous, part of me wants to make a run for it. At the same time, the prospect is exciting.
I defer to the second feeling. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
“Yeah?” He squeezes my neck harder. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
As I strain to breathe, I tighten my grip on his arm, though I’m no match for his strength. I should cut this out right now, relent, and be a good girl. But, fuck, I want him. We’re just playing a game with him pretending to be all mysterious and badass. It’s fun.
“Do it,” I egg. “I’m not as weak as you think I am.”
“You suggesting you can put up a fight?”
“Yes.”
He snorts. “This’ll be amusing.”
With both hands, I pull at his wrist, but his grip is iron.
“Come on, princess. That all you got?” he sneers.
“In a real fight, I’d…claw your face or gouge your eyes,” I say while I squirm deliciously beneath his weight.
“Do it,” he replies. “Try anything you want.”
I try to slap him, but he easily grabs my wrist and pins it to the sofa. He tightens his clasp around my throat. Shit. He’s really choking me. What if he doesn’t know his own strength?
“I—can’t—breathe,” I croak.
“Are you having a tough time breathing?” he asks.
I start to panic. For the first time, I worry that our play might be going too far. I need my safe word.
“M-M—” I whisper.
He leans in and places his ear nearer my mouth. “Are you trying to say your safe word, princess?”
I need air! With my free hand, I grab my drinking glass off the table and slam it into his head. The glass shatters. His hold on my throat loosens. I gasp. It takes a moment for the faintness to dissipate and for me to realize that I broke the glass against him. He seems surprised too. Did I hurt him badly?
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t apologize,” he returns as he shakes shards from his hair, “but that’s the end of playing nice.”
His hand shoots out and grabs me by the throat again. I’m not sure I want more breath play and try to pry his fingers off while he pulls me up and onto my knees.
“Can we try something else?” I ask.
“Maybe. After you pull down your pants for me.”
I undo my jeans and shimmy them down past my hips.
“Panties too,” he directs.
I pull down my underwear. Thrusting a hand up my top, he gropes a breast. I had gone without a bra, so he has easy access. Sliding his middle and forefinger around my nipple, he tugs until I wince. Then he jams his fingers between my thighs and pulls them out, wet. He forces his finger into my mouth.
“See how easy this is for me?” he asks before licking the side of my face. Taking one of my hands, he shoves it to my pussy. “Fuck yourself.”
I sink two fingers into myself, making sure to rub my clit while I draw my digits in and out. Arousal flames through my veins as I stare into his eyes. There’s something menacing there, but I don’t know if it’s real or just an act.
While still holding my throat in one hand, his other mauls my breasts. I grunt when he slaps the side of one. “You going to come for me?”
