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“You think?” I take one step closer, looming over her. “Or you thought you’d be able to get out of here without me?”
“No, that’s not it!” Her flushed cheeks and the fact that she won’t meet my gaze tell me otherwise.
Everything around me goes red. What do I have to do? How many hoops does she expect me to jump through? “Come here.” With my hand around her elbow, she doesn’t have much choice but to fall in line. A couple of the stalls are occupied, but the doors are closed. Nobody notices me dragging the panicked, trembling girl holding the silver dress into the room awaiting her.
“I’m sorry—” I cut her off with a hand over her mouth once the door is locked behind us. Her eyes fly open wide, and her body goes stiff with fear once I’ve pushed her up against the wall.
“Why do you keep pushing me?” I ask in a tight whisper, aware we aren’t strictly alone. “Have I done anything but try to make you happy? What will it take to show you how serious I am?”
The strangled cries behind my hand tell me she’s no closer to calming down than before. Rather than remove it, I thrust the other beneath her thin sweater, using my body to hold her in place.
She wriggles against me, arms caught between us. The girl is helpless. How far do I need to go before she understands that?
“Keep trying to fight.” My fingers work beneath her bra cup, where I find her already tight nipple and pinch until tears fill her eyes. “It turns me on. And you’ll be the one who’s embarrassed if anybody finds us. I have too much money to give a fuck.”
The fight drains from her as the truth of this sinks in.
That’s not what makes my cock stand at attention. It’s the way she’s begun to melt into my touch. The way she shivers when I lower my head to run my lips over her throat. Fuck, she smells like cotton candy and vanilla. Good enough to eat.
Not a bad idea, but I’m not in the mood to play. She’s pushed me too far. Eating her pussy would be the same as rewarding her for defying me—the girl nearly drowned me the first time, she came so hard. Now isn’t the time to show her all the toe-curling things I can do to her body.
Though I expect her toes to curl, just the same.
“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” I slide my hand down the length of her torso before moving down to take hold of her ass and yank her close. The bulge between our bodies leaves no room for doubt.
The same goes for her sharp gasp when I rub myself against her. “I’m going to fuck you. Here, in this dressing room. And you are going to stay very, very quiet, or else we’ll be discovered, and this will become a Christmas you’ll never forget, but not for a nice reason. Got it?”
I don’t give her a chance to answer, not that it matters. She doesn’t exactly get a say in this.
A woman walks past on the other side of the door while another starts a conversation on her cell. I, meanwhile, lift my hand from Winter’s mouth and thrust my tongue between her lips. She tastes even better than she smells, sweet enough that I could be satisfied doing nothing but kiss her all day, all night. Every inch of her is something to be indulged in, appreciated, and worshiped thoroughly.
She’s panting for air by the time I lift my head again, her eyes half-closed, her expression dazed. I’ve got her where I want her, even if she refuses to admit it. “First, you’re going to show me how sorry you are for rejecting my generosity.” By the time she understands what I’m doing, I’ve already pushed her halfway to her knees.
It’s no use fighting—she’s no match for my strength. “But–” She cuts a brief, terrified look toward the door. It’s the kind that ends a foot above the floor, meaning anyone who pays attention will see someone kneeling in front of a pair of feet. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.
As if I care. “You should’ve thought of that.” My cock is aching to be free, especially now that she’s so utterly at my mercy, clearly afraid of what happens if we’re caught. Never breaking eye contact, I lower my zipper and slowly free myself.
“Now.” With one hand on the back of her head, I hold her still while feeding her my bulging head. “You’re going to be a good girl and suck this until I’m satisfied.” I drag the tip over her lips, and the sight of it alone is almost enough to make my knees buckle.
Yet it’s when I pull her head forward and give her no choice but to part her lips and accept me, I have to struggle against a deep moan. She’s here, exactly where I fantasized about having her: on her knees, completely at my mercy, with no choice but to pleasure me.
She’s struggling, though, hands batting my thighs when I drive myself deep into her mouth and bump the back of her throat. I’m not particularly in the mood for kindness, leaving me to ignore her panicked attempts at making me back off in favor of pushing even deeper until she gags and convulses.
This is what she deserves after what she did.
A single moment of eye contact when I slam against her throat again tells me she understands. I don’t need to speak the words aloud. This is her punishment, right down to the tears rolling down her cheeks. Having her face fucked as if she means nothing. Being used for my pleasure.
And this is pleasurable, oh, yes. “Good girl,” I breathe, closing my eyes and allowing myself the luxury of focusing on the feel of her lips around me, her tongue sweeping along the underside of my shaft, the increased pressure in response to my increasingly rapid thrusts. Her choked cries of panic only egg me on, giving me no choice but to hold her head tighter than ever and treat her to a flurry of punishing strokes that make her face go red and her eyes bulge.
I’m losing myself.
I’m already lost.
And if this doesn’t stop, I’m going to come. There’s no helping my regretful moan as I fall free of her swollen lips, glistening with her saliva. I haul her to her feet when it’s clear she’s too dazed to do it on her own. The girl looks like she has no idea which way is up–panting for air, even leaning into me.
Her tits heave against my chest in time with her ragged, strangled breathing. Our breath mingles between us, hot, while I work her jeans down to her ankles.
It’s when she kicks off her shoes that she reveals her true feelings. She’s not fighting anymore. No, she’s making it easier. I doubt she’s doing it to make me happy.
