“I know.” I drag my lips across her spine, feeling her shiver. “Spread them anyway.”
Her legs part, just a few inches, enough for me to see how wet she is, enough for the scent of her arousal to hit my nose.
“Look at that.” I slide my hand between her thighs and drag two fingers through her folds. She gasps, and her hips jerk against the couch. “Dripping for the man you hate. You’re a little traitor, aren’t you?”
“I’m not—”
“Your cunt says otherwise.” I push one finger inside her, and she moans into the cushion. “Your cunt says you want more.”
“That’s not—” She breaks off when I add a second finger and curl them. “Oh god.”
“That’s exactly what it is.” I fuck her slowly with my fingers, watching her hands fist the couch, watching her hips rock back to meet each thrust. “You hate me. You want to poison me in my sleep. And you’re still clenching around my fingers like you can’t get enough.”
Her walls squeeze tight, and she whimpers. I pull my fingers out, and she makes a sound of protest, her hips chasing the contact.
“Please—”
“Please, what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
“Tell me what you are first.”
She shakes her head, face pressed into the cushion.
I bring my hand down on her ass, right over one of the welts. She cries out, her whole body jerking, and when I slide my fingers back through her folds, she’s even wetter than before.
“Tell me,” I say. “Or I stop.”
“I’m—” Her voice cracks. “I’m a traitor.”
“That’s right.” I push two fingers back inside her, and she moans. “You’re a traitor. You get wet for the man who hurts you. You spread your legs for the man who owns you.” I curl my fingers and press hard, searching for the spot that’ll make her fall apart. “And you like it.”
“Roman—” My name comes out broken. “I’m going to—”
“Not yet.” I slow my fingers, keeping her right on the edge. “You come when I tell you to come.”
She whimpers, her thighs shaking, her whole body strung tight. I can feel her walls fluttering around my fingers, feel how close she is, and I keep her there for a long moment, hovering on the edge of release.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please, I need—”
“What do you need?”
“I need to come. Please. I’ll do anything.”
I lean down and press my mouth to her ear. “Remember that the next time you want to disobey me. Remember that you begged me to let you come with my fingers inside you and my marks on your skin.”
“I’ll remember.” Her voice is barely audible. “I promise. Please.”
I curl my fingers hard and press my thumb against her clit, rubbing mercilessly.
She shatters.
Her back arches off the couch, and she cries out, her walls clamping down around my fingers, her whole body shaking through the orgasm. I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks fade, until she’s trembling and boneless beneath me.
I withdraw my fingers slowly, and she whimpers at the loss.
“Stay there,” I say.
