Humiliation floods me, sharp and hot. I should shove him off, I should scream, I should do anything but writhe under him like this, naked and desperate. Instead, I part my lips and let his fingers slide inside, tasting myself on his skin. His eyes darken instantly, hunger flaring, but he doesn’t break.
“That’s better,” he whispers. “Good little slut.”
The words sting, but they also make me clench around nothing, my body betraying me again.
He drags his wet fingers down my chest, leaving a slick trail, and pinches my nipple until I gasp. “Quiet,” he growls, glancing toward the door. “Do you want her to hear?”
The threat makes me freeze, horror slicing through the haze of lust. Kate. Just down the hall. My best friend.
He sees the panic in my eyes and smiles like a wolf. “That’s it. Stay scared. Stay desperate. Makes you tighter.”
I bite my lip so hard it almost bleeds, trying to stay silent as his hand slides lower again, skimming the edge of what I crave, never giving me relief. My hips jerk helplessly, searching, begging, and he shakes his head slowly.
“You don’t get to cum tonight,” he whispers, voice low, dangerous. “Not until I decide you’ve earned it. And I promise you, baby girl—you’re nowhere near earning it.”
Tears sting my eyes from the frustration, the ache clawing through me so sharp it’s unbearable. I choke out a sob, muffled into his chest, and he kisses the top of my head like he hasn’t just broken me in half.
“Sweet little liar,” he murmurs, stroking my hair almost tenderly. “You’ll keep pretending you don’t want me, but your body will always tell the truth.”
And then he settles between my thighs, so close, so heavy, his cock pressing against my slick folds without entering. Teasing. Threatening. Ruining me slow.
“You’re going to cry for it,” he promises darkly, rocking against me with brutal control. “You’re going to beg until your voice breaks. And I’m going to make sure you never forget how it feels to be denied by me.”
His cock slides against me, heavy and hot, but he doesn’t push in. Every pass is a taunt—so close my body convulses, desperate to take him in, but he holds himself back with brutal restraint.
“Beg,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth along my throat. “Beg properly.”
I shake my head, lips pressed tight, refusing to give him what he wants.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until I gasp, the sharp sting shooting down my spine. “Don’t play games with me, baby girl. You think you can win? You think you can outlast me?”
His cock grinds harder, sliding through the slick mess he’s already made of me, the head nudging my clit just enough to rip a whimper out of me.
“There it is,” he whispers in my ear, voice dripping with victory. “Every time you say you don’t want me, your body says otherwise. Every roll of your hips, every gasp—liar.”
I want to scream at him, claw at him, shove him away, but instead I arch helplessly into the friction, shame burning through me like gasoline.
“You’re trembling again.” His tone is soft now, cruel in its gentleness, his thumb stroking the tears I don’t even realise are falling. “And it’s not fear. It’s hunger.”
My breath stutters. “You’re cruel.”
“And you love it.”
The words slice through me. Because they’re true.
He pulls back suddenly, the loss of him a violent ache, and I nearly cry out from the emptiness. He smirks, watching the way my body jerks toward him like it’s not mine anymore.
“Kate’s in the next room,” he says, almost conversationally, his eyes locked on mine. “Sleeping. Dreaming. She doesn’t have a clue that her perfect little friend is spread out under her daddy, dripping, begging, and ready to sin.
Shame claws at my throat so hard I can barely breathe. “Don’t—don’t say that.”
His palm covers my mouth again, pressing me down into the mattress. “Then stay quiet.” His cock brushes me again, harder this time, a brutal reminder of how close I am to falling apart. “You don’t want her to hear, do you?”
I shake my head violently, tears streaking hotly down my temples.
“Good girl,” he growls, shifting just enough to press the thick head against my entrance. Not pushing in, not giving me what I want—just holding me on the knife’s edge, my body clenching around nothing, desperate and wrecked.
“Stay quiet,” he warns again. “Or I’ll make sure she hears.”
