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I’m settling into the blowjob when Uri suddenly pulls out of my grasp and backs away. The first thing I feel is disappointment. Then nerves.
Was I not good enough? Was he bored? Did I hurt him with my eagerness?
Before I can ask any of those questions, he shoves me back onto the bed and I bounce pitifully in place. I get about a millisecond to keep wondering what I did wrong before he’s on top of me. He steadies me with his body and I draw in a breath as his heat slides over mine.
This kind of thing would have had my skin crawling a month ago. But right now, it’s making my toes curl. It’s making the wetness drip down my thighs.
“Uri…” I gasp as my lips latch onto the side of his neck.
He snarls hungrily as his erection presses firmly against my thigh. I part my legs a little wider, hoping that he takes that as the invitation it’s meant to be. But he still holds himself away.
“Mm, eager littlenarushitel…” he snarls, nipping at my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
He dips a little lower until he’s at eye level with my breasts. He squeezes one, pushing my nipple up high before he circles it with his tongue.
God help me.
I’m aware of how needy I’m being, trying to push my hips against his, moaning and writhing and trying to tempt him into taking me the way I want him to. I’m practically a porn star at this point.
But even my best attempts don’t seem to have an effect on him.
Well, that’s not true. His eyes are blazing with lust. I don’t know much about men, but I know lust when I see it. I know he wants me but for some reason, he’s holding back.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth again and I groan. I can feel his cock at my lips and—
I gasp when he pushes into me. Not his cock—his fingers.
“You’re so wet for me, Alyssa. You’re fucking dripping all over my hand.”
I was right about one thing: heisgonna kill me—just not in the way I thought.
“Uri!” It comes out sounding breathless and angry and frustrated all at the same time.
He raises his head and chuckles cruelly. “What’s wrong, prettykiska? Something bothering you?”
“Stop teasing me!”
Another dark chuckle. “Is that what you want?” he asks, rubbing his cock against my slit. He’s still not inside me, but another inch, two maybe, and he will be.
“Yes. Yes…aah…”
He grabs my hands and pins them down on either side of my face. Then he presses himself down against me. “If you want me to do this, I want something from you.”
I should’ve known there’d be strings attached.The proper answer here is “hell no.” I should be pushing him off me and drawing a firm line in the sand. But instead, I nod feverishly. “What do you want?”
Real empowered there, girl. Nice work. You just set feminism back a hundred years.
“I want you to let go,” he whispers into my ear. “I want you to give yourself over to me. If I feel you holding back, therewillbe punishment.”
My thighs are wet at this point. I’m not sure if I’m more excited for the sex or the promise of what comes if I disobey him. I can barely move. My legs are jelly and my arms are locked in place. There’s nothing I can do and nowhere for me to run.
And still, I don’t feel scared.
Not in the slightest.
I mean to say, “Okay, I’ll let go,” even though I’m not fully sure what he means by that. But what I really say is, “You can have all of me.”
If I’d been in better control of my faculties, I’d be cringing for sure. As it stands, I’m too weak and trembly to care about silly, abstract things like sexual power and politics.
