I’m frozen as his long legs eat up the five feet of distance between us, stopping just as his chest brushes against mine. He’s so tall, he’s forced to dip his head, black strands falling in his eyes as he stares down at me.
“Even when I’m not around, it will only be me who fucks you,” he repeats, his rough voice stooping low. “Is that understood, darling?”
I can only gape at him, but he must be confident I’ll listen, because he tips his chin up, nodding toward the bed behind me.
“You said you think of me when you fuck yourself. I want you to show me.”
“What?” I squeak, glancing over my shoulder toward the bed then back to him, as if to confirm it’s real, that he’s not hallucinating.
Maybe it’s just me who's hallucinating, because this can’tactuallybe happening.
“I want you to get on the bed,” he says slowly. “Spread your legs, show me your pretty pussy, and fuck yourself with my cock.”
“Wha— I amnotdoing that.”
A threatening look hardens his features. My stomach twists itself into a knot while my mind races, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to get out of this.
He just… He cannotbe fucking serious.
His mouth dips lower, and that simple movement is like pressing thebutton to turn on a vacuum, sucking all the air out of the room.
“I don’t recall giving you a choice.”
My mouth moves, though no words escape. He tips his chin up again, motioning for me to back up.
“Get back on the bed.”
I grit my teeth, frustrated tears burning the backs of my eyes.
I knew I was going to regret that confession, but for some stupid reason, I never considered he’d make me reenact it. I should’ve fucking known better. It’sDread, so of course he’s going to make me humiliate myself, and I handed him the perfect way to do it.
Snarling, I turn and climb onto the bed, my movements angry and stilted. I can’t tell who I’m more pissed with—him or myself.
I sit at the head of the bed and lean back against the wall, my knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, though I ensure they're positioned in front of my center to conceal it from his prying eyes, my thighs firmly pressed together.
He curls his bottom lip between his teeth as he gets on the bed before me, setting the dildo and vibrator in front of my legs. Then, he reaches into the pocket of his joggers and pulls out his phone.
My throat tightens, but I’m not even surprised he wants to record it. Just another piece of collateral to weaponize and control me with.
My heart is pounding, and I’m so fucking nervous, I could vomit. For several moments, I can only stare down at the toys, urging myself to just grab them and get it over with.
Except, I can’t move. I’m paralyzed, and for whatever reason, this is so much harder than fucking him.
It’s only me making myself vulnerable now, only me exposing myself and performing something incredibly intimate for him.
The bed shifts, and I raise my eyes right as he leans forward past my bent knees, placing his hands on either side of my hips, caging me in. He tilts his head and peers down at me, his lips only an inch from mine.
“Spread them,” he whispers, the soft command sending a chill racing down my spine.
The effect is instantaneous. My blood warms, heat spreading throughout my extremities, and my clit pulses with need.
Swallowing, I hesitate for a beat before letting my knees fall to the sides. His T-shirt bundles at my waist, allowing him a clear view of my pussy.
However, he doesn’t look, holding his position. His lips twitch, approval radiating from his heated stare.
“Good,” he whispers. “Now, feel your cunt, baby. Is it wet for me?”
The anxiety twisting my stomach ebbs, and my confidence slowly creeps back in. It’s reminiscent of when I stood in the locker room and decided to take back my control. Even if it slipped through my fingers the moment his lips captured mine, my power didn’t.
