I added another finger, then another, stretching her, filling her. I hooked my fingers, finding that spongy, sensitive spot inside that made her gasp. I knew her body instinctively. I knew its secrets, its desires, its vulnerabilities. I knew exactly how to play her, how to make her sing, how to make her scream.
And I did.
I worked her with a quietintensity, my fingers a blur of motion, my thumb a constant, demanding pressure on her clit. She was a live wire, a quivering, gasping mess of a girl. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric. Her breath became a series of short, ragged pants.
“Please,” she sobbed, the word a desperate plea. I didn’t know what she was begging for. For me to stop? For me to never stop?
“Please what, Kara?” I asked gently.
“I don’t know,” she cried out desperately.
I chuckled. “Yes, you do.”
I increased the pressure, my pace quickening. I was pushing her, pushing her past her limits, into a place where there was no thought, no resistance, only feeling.
She was close. I could feel it in the tension of her body, in the frantic, shallow breaths she was taking. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face a mask of pure bliss.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
Her eyes fluttered open, a hazy, unfocused blue. They were beautiful, but they were vacant, very clearly lost in a sea of need and desire.
“I want you to come for me,” I demanded. “I want you to keep your eyes on me when you do. I want you to see who’s doing this to you.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, a persistent, irritating hum. I ignored it. They could wait. This was more important.
She came for me.
Hard.
Her back arched, and her body shook. I felt her muscles clamp down on my fingers like a vise, her body fluttering around me as she came.
When it was over, she went limp like a ragdoll on the bed. Her body was still quivering for me. A sheen of sweat covered her skin, making her glow in the soft lighting. I could see that my cum was still drying on her thighs.
She was a mess.
My mess.
I pulled my fingers from her slowly and wiped them across her belly. She cringed and I watched her closely. I had taken everything from her. Her control. Her defiance. Her pride. Her body. Now I was going to take her secrets.
“Talk,” I said, my voice seething with sudden anger.
She shook her head and bit her lip. “I… I can’t.”
“You can,” I growled, unable to hide the threat I posed to her from the tone of my voice. “And you will.”
I leaned over her and braced my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. I was close enough that she could feel my breath on her face, close enough that she could see the cold, hard promise in my eyes.
“I’m going to ask you questions,” I said softly. “And you’re going to answer them. Truthfully. If you lie, I’ll know. And you won’t like the consequences.”
My phone buzzed again, insistent and demanding. I glanced at the screen. I could see that it was Dmitri.
Where are you? Report.
I snatched it up and typed back with one thumb, my other hand still planted beside her head.
Busy.
I tossed the phone onto the nightstand, my attention returning to her. She was watching me, her eyes a mixture of fear, fury, and reluctant respect.
