Before she can answer, I hook her waist, spreading my legs so she can stand between them.
My eyes lock with hers and I bend forward, slowly, deliberately, taking the first button between my teeth, and tearing it free, my incisor biting through the worn thread.
I spit it to the side, and it bounces off the wall with a tiny plunk.
It’s only one button, but I feast on the revealed skin, fastening my mouth on the knob of her collarbone and sucking. Salt and the clean floral taste of her body wash.
When I sit back, her chest heaves, fingernails biting into her palms.
“Next.”
“I’m not doing anything until you show me the optometrist’s appointment.”
“Fair enough.” A few taps and the confirmation Gregorie sorted for me dings on her phone.
A tinny voice reads, “Dr Rothschild, Wednesday—” before she silences it with her trembling thumb.
“I had him bring it forward to tomorrow.” I take the device from her shaking hands and pocket it, prompting, “Your button.”
She still doesn’t move.
“Or would you prefer I do everything?” My hands settle on each hip. “And punish you for the lapse.” I press my face into the fabric of her blouse and inhale.
Yesterday’s memory surges. The press of her body against mine, our intimacy, then the conversation after, a connectiondeeper than I’ve felt with girls before. One that sparks a craving for more.
I seize the next button down and give a vicious twist, pulling it free. Tossing it over her shoulder, it bounces on the plump duvet.
“Prick.” She slaps away my hand. “You think it’s easy for me to sew those back on?”
The friction is gone. This is the girl I’m after.
“Then next time, obey me.” Another button twists off in my fingers, flicked into the corner. “At this rate, you’ll be going to school naked.”
The sides of her blouse sag open, and the tease is too much. Grabbing a fistful either side, I pull until every button tears apart, then ruck the kilt to her waist in one movement, exposing the tender skin of her thighs.
I pull her low, nuzzling into the curve of her neck, scraping my teeth on the tender skin. Marking her for everyone to see.
I’ve never been possessive, never cared enough for that level of claim, but with Ophelia, it’s absolute.
“If you keep being disobedient, you’ll just keep making things worse for yourself. Panties, now.”
When she doesn’t respond, I drag them to her ankles, twisting them so she’s off balance and tumbles forward, palms landing on my shoulder and chest. “Bra or I’ll bind your wrists as well.”
“Let go of me. I’ll be late for the bus.”
“It’s already long gone.”
She bites into her lower lip, blood flowing to the indents.
“You asked for special treatment. The least you can do is follow orders.”
She reaches behind her, releasing the fastening with a snap. I drag it lower than her belly button, licking my lips as her nipples tighten in the cool air.
Reaching inside my zipper, I begin stroking myself. “Stretch your arms above your head.”
Her eyes stare at nothing as she cups her elbows above her head, drawing her pert little tits upwards.
I hold my hand beneath her pouting lips. “Spit.”
