Her throat works, the delicate column of pale skin contracting as she swallows. Conflict flashes across her features. Defiance battling with something softer, more vulnerable. She finally settles for a wordless shake of her head.
My forearms prickle, hairs rising. Super sensitive. Aware of every dust mote in the room.
I slide my fingers around her wrist, pressing a welcome kiss against the delicate shadows of her veins before walking her backwards. Her knees hit the bed, my eyes never breaking away from her face.
“You don’t look pleased to see me,” I say. “And after I travelled all this way.”
“No one asked you to.”
She scowls when I push her down onto the mattress, then bounces straight back up, finger pointing at the door. “Leave.”
“Why?” My voice turns low, mocking. “Is Bryan calling the police?”
Her expression is stricken, and it sours my mood.
I steal her glasses, setting them on the dressing table before I twist her away from me, fingers threading through her hair, forcing her cheek flat on the mattress. “I thought a quick morning delight would be a great start to my day.”
It’s so easy to hold her in place. The more frantic her struggles grow, the less effective they are.
I kick her legs apart, keeping them spread with my knee when she immediately tries to slam them shut again. I flip up her kilt and tug down her panties, leaving them stretched between her thighs, caressing the full curves of her lovely arse.
She wriggles when I administer a light spank on each cheek, the pink outline of my hand clear against her pale colouring.
“Damien, please. I… I’m still sore from yesterday.”
Apart from our confrontation outside the community hall, this is the first time my name has been on her lips and the sound’s more enjoyable than I would’ve believed.
“Say my name again.” I spin her, sliding my hand around her throat and gently squeezing. A shiver trembles across her shoulders. “Beg me again.”
Her eyes flash, their movement increasing. “Beg you to be a decent fucking person, you mean. Bit late, isn’t it?”
I increase the pressure, not hurting her, just testing how deep her stubborn streak goes.
“Damien… please.” Laden with sarcasm, her lip curls even as she obeys.
“Please what? Spell it out for me.”
The tension in her jaw increases, tightening under my palm. I can read what she wants to say in her eyes.Please fuck off and die.
But some of her fire dims. “Let me help you another way.” Voice soft, hesitant. “With my hand?”
I release her throat. She gave me what I wanted.
But instead of pleasure, there’s a pinch of friction. It doesn’t match at all with what I had in my head.
Breaking her down suddenly seems like a mistake.
“Okay.” I retreat a step to give her room.
Her hand tentatively stretches towards me. I shake my head, then remember her vision, and say aloud, “No. Undo your blouse. If I’m accepting your compromise, then I’ll need a show.”
Her cheeks flush, so pretty against the subtle blue of her eyes.
“Go slowly. Button by button.”
I drag the dresser chair closer and sit, the tremor of her fingers making the work harder than it should be.
“Would you like a hand?”
