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“I didn’t bring my phone.” No pockets to slide it into, and no purse. I came here with a clear purpose.
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ve got mine.” He produces it from the pocket of his cargo pants. I shake my head.
“No.”
He shrugs. “Too bad you don’t get to choose, little spy.” With that, he heads over to a tripod in the corner by the window that I only notice now. Damn, the power this man has to mess with my head.
He fixes the device to the tripod and turns the camera on before he rests a hand on top of it and faces me again.
My eyes slip down to the tan skin between the open upper sides of his shirt, which is half see-through anyway. It compels you to keep staring, to seek out the contours of the perfectly defined muscles underneath. That smug grin on his face invites me to do it, telling me he’s very much aware of the effect he has on me. Very much aware I’m into him.
He knows that I’ve been dying to fuck him, but chose to play this game anyway.
The glint in his eyes tells me his punishment isn’t going to be gentle, but that I’m going to enjoy it anyway.
“Why don’t you come over here and kiss me, little spy? Right here in front of this camera.”
I swallow hard, but my feet obey. I walk to him, my legs trembling. I can barely keep my balance in my studded leather high heels.
I stop right in front of the camera, staring at myself on the display. Black eyeliner that follows the cat-like shape of my eyes and makes the blue of my irises pop, white foundation and black lipstick in the shape that a geisha would draw on her mouth adorn my face. The choker is bulky against my slim neck, inviting him to make me his bitch.
Looking at myself, I also stare the truth of my decisions in the face. The reason why I came here. I want this frat boy to use me. The silent admission makes me wet between my legs, my panties creaming.
Declan hums in approval as if he can smell it.
“Kiss me, Mia Rogers. Or do you regret your choice and want to back out now? Because this is your last chance.” A cruel edge adds to that grin. I catch it just as my eyes slide over to him. “If you’ve changed your mind, I won’t stand in your way.”
I angle my body toward him and lift my chin. That’s all the response he needs.
The cruelty of his grin reaches his eyes.
Without another word, he steps to join me in the camera’s focus, tall, handsome and smelling of power. Excitement pools in my core, and my heart flares.
Then it happens. Declan Santori grips my chin with two fingers, harder than I would have expected. He lowers his face and, finally, his lips close on mine.
My heart beats in my throat. That amazing mouth, full but hard and masculine, is taking possession of my lips. It’s hot, his scent of lemongrass seeping through my senses as he deepens the kiss. Then he deepens it further, stepping closer into me, leaning into the taste.
Probably more than he originally wanted to.
I try to back out when the kiss takes my breath away, but he wraps a hand harshly around the back of my neck, keeping in place. Forcefully. He shoves his tongue down my throat, making a point. When he stops, it’s only to rest his forehead against mine.
“You don’t get to set the pace, little spy. You’re here to pay for your sins, and I’m your punisher.” His hand slides down from the nape of my neck to my chest, finally resting on the V of the corset, between my breasts. My skin heats up, my breathing faster, my eyes hanging on Declan’s.
The cruelty is gone, replaced by something far more dangerous–the desire of a man unable to hold back.
“This will be harder on me than I thought,” he purrs, his hand slipping under the cup of my corset, and gripping my breast. I suck in a breath when his thumb runs over my hard nipple.
His other hand isn’t as gentle as he flicks down the other cup, freeing both of my tits. They’re not big, but they’re round and perky, with nipples stabbing the air, my skin so white that it contrasts strongly with the goth black I’m wearing. A wicked glint flickers in his eyes. He wets his lips, a genuine gesture. I know he’s not trying to be seductive with me, he just inherently is captivating.
“Look at you,” he says. “What a sight you are.”
He grabs my jaw and turns my head to the mirror, even though I would prefer to watch myself in the display of his phone placed on the corner tripod and angled toward us. It would be even more decadent, making me feel like a slut on a porn hub.
Instead, I look at us in the mirror.
Declan grips my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, lifting them up until it hurts. I hiss, rising on the tips of my toes to follow him and relieve some of the sting.
“Like a puppet on a string.” He sounds nasty, and I freakin’ love it. “I don’t care that you took pictures of me, little spy, but you didn’t know I wouldn’t mind when you took them. You used me, without caring how I’d feel about it. Now I’m gonna use you–” he brings his cheek to mine, looking into my eyes in the mirror, a master next to his dirty secret, “–without caring how you feel about it. I’m going to make you my slave for a long time. You’ll keep doing my bidding to make sure that footage doesn’t make the rounds all over campus, or land on the internet. In short, I’ll own you, Mia Rogers.”
