A portion of me wonders if this is some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. Even though he hasn’t had me captive for long, I’ve been his puppet for far longer than I’d like to admit.
Giving in to him was easy. Too easy.
He works two fingers inside me, pumping them before adding a third.
I’m breathless and loving it.
His tongue edges my ear. “Look down. Watch me stretch you.”
My eyes flicker open, and I lift my head off his arm to listen.
It’s more invasive than just feeling. Watching adds another delectable layer to the cake he’s creating.
I test a roll of my hips on the next thrust of his fingers, loving the hiss that comes from his lips as I do so.
It only eggs me on.
“I knew you’d be this good. From the first time you moaned to how you came for me over and over. I knew you were the perfect fit.” His words only have me in a delirious haze, my arousal growing wilder as I grind on his fingers, hearing how wet I am as he picks up his pace.
“You could’ve killed me in my sleep,” I manage breathlessly. The act of getting any words out nearly makes me lose my rhythm.
“I could have. Does that turn you on or scare you?”
“Both,” I admit, my inhibitions and common sense dulled under his expert fingers.
“I still might kill you.”
“Why?” I moan, my head falling back as I remove my gaze from his machinations.
“Because you’re poisonous. I’ve already told you. You’ve done something to me.”
I can’t begin to dissect his words at the moment, I’m too fucked up over his touch.
Too close to shattering and stepping into another world where I’m the hostage of a serial killer in the middle of the fucking woods, where no one will ever find me.
“Oh God!” I lift my head off his arm to watch our efforts, and my body burns, readying to fall apart. “Ohhhh, God!” I whisper.
“It’s too bad you lied to me earlier. If you’d have been truthful, you could’ve come,” he says into my ear, a dark edge to his tone.
“W-what?”
His fingers pull out right as my orgasm crawls towards the surface, and it’s ruined.
The throb between my thighs is immense, nearly painful when he rolls away from me and tugs the blankets back over both of us.
“Goodnight, pretty poison,” he tosses over his shoulder.
I’m at a loss, reeling and pissed.
I have half a mind to finish myself off while he lies there and listens.
“Don’t get any fucking ideas while I’m asleep. I’ll know if you came, and I’ll punish you even worse tomorrow.”
What’s worse than this?
Deciding I don’t want to find out, I find my panties with my foot and pull them on while staying beneath the covers.
With all the anger boiling through my stomach and the throbbing ache between my legs even stronger, it takes forever to fall asleep.
