I can’t imagine how much someone as big as him would have to drink to get knocked on their ass.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Who cares if he’s actually drunk or not? He’s asleep now, and I should be, too. I scrunch my eyes shut and try to make it happen. I almost succeed. But then Curse moves, startling me into wakefulness once more.
He was on his back before. He’s rolled towards me now, his heavy arm falling over my torso. I still, my heart pounding in my ears and between my legs, when I realize just how far his T-shirt has ridden up on me. The hip his fingertips are grazing now is bare.
So is my pussy below.
Curse makes a harsh sound in his sleep. His grip on my hip tightens.
“Curse?”
I can’t tell if he hears me or not. His hand slides upwards from my hip to my waist. I gasp when he reaches my breast and squeezes. Instantly, my nipple is achingly hard beneath his palm.
“Curse!”
He definitely doesn’t seem to hear me.
In an instant, he shifts position once more, looming over me instead of lying beside me. His mouth finds my neck, and pure sensation bolts between my legs, making me cry out. Curse groans against my neck in response, his uncuffed hand diving between my legs and palming me there possessively. The pressure on my clit is wondrous ecstasy. So good I want to sob.
I’ve never felt like this before. I tried masturbating a few times as a teenager as a way to reassert some control over that part of my body, but all that ever achieved was a sick feeling low in my stomach and a numbness in my clit. I didn’t think I was capable of any kind of physical arousal.
I thought that part of me was dead.
But it’s not. Jesus Christ, it’s really not. I moan low in my throat, spreading my legs and grinding helplessly against the unyielding pressure of Curse’s hand. Something is coiling inside me. Something that I feel like I have to chase, to capture. I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t.
I’ve never had an orgasm. But what else could this be? This desperate undulation working its way through my pussy, bringing me higher and higher. So high that I don’t care if I die when I eventually fall.
Curse is aroused, too. I can feel him through the material of the shorts or boxers he’s got on. His cock is hot and so fucking hard against me. He groans again, shifting his hips, thrusting onto me. Demanding. I don’t feel any disgust at the evidence of his physical need. I feel only tearful elation. Relief. That at least a part of him wants me.
He could fuck me. Just like this.
It’s a wild thought that makes my pussy clench with need a split second before it throws me into blind panic.
He could fuck me.
And that doesn’t make any sense.
Not even twelve hours ago he told me not to touch him again.
With my free hand, I clutch at his shoulder. Push at his chest.
He doesn’t respond at all.
My God. He’s sound asleep. Completely fucking out of it.
He’s not in control of himself. He doesn’t even know that this is happening.
“Curse, stop!”
I don’t want him to stop. It’s agony for me to say it. I want him to keep touching me.
But I want him to do it willingly. When he’s awake.
I can’t ever participate in something like this. Stealing this sordid sort of pleasure from someone in the dark. Taking it from someone who can’t say no.
Especially him.
“Curse!”
