Bastard.
Twenty-Six
Vicky
The shower runs for an age.
Then it shuts off.
I have to fight not to swallow. I know he’ll check. I don’t want his belt on my ass before he fucks it.
My ears strain for any sound of him, but I still can’t hear the pad of his bare feet on the thick carpet. I don’t know he’s there until his fingers touch my spine and run down over my ass. It makes me jump.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Did you swallow?”
I shake my head against the sheet.
“Good girl.” His hand cups my bottom. “Hold the bars. Spread your legs. Lift your ass.”
A whimper slips out, and I can’t help it and don’t try to stop it. I reach for the bars of the wrought-iron headboard, wondering if he’s going to tieme again. My ass comes up beneath his hand, thighs parting.
His fingers slip between, stroking me.
“So wet,” he says, voice so low it’s barely a whisper. Yet the room is silent; I’m not sure I’m even breathing. And of course I’m wet; I’ve been lying here waiting for him. Just as he wanted.
He loves this game. All those times he told me to take a bath. Make myself ready for him.Anticipatehim.
It’s too goddamn effective. I’m a mess, my body’s alive, his touch awakens every part of me, not simply where his hand is on me.
Then he slides a finger inside me, and I press my head into the sheets, lifting my hips up higher, whimpering uncontrollably. Wanting more,needingmore.
God, don’t toy with me!
I’d be begging him if I could speak. He’s gagged me with his cum. No… I’d be cussing him if I could speak. Howdarehe leave me like this, for so long?
His finger strokes inside me, then slips out. He spreads my wetness around, making it obvious to both of us just how ready I am for him.
My face flushes with humiliation. He’s turned me into his slut, wanton and needy. In what… two weeks?
No. Not even that. Just since the night of the dance, eight days ago.
Eight days to totally lose my cool until I’m lying naked on his bed, lifting my ass on request.
That’s not me.
Is it?
No.
Frustration flares, powered by my own shame but directed athim. This is his fault, damn it. I pull away, my hips turning, twisting on the bed. Yet I can’t bring myself to swallow, or release the headboard. How fucked up is that? I can’t evenfighthim anymore. What’s happening to me?
“Now then, Tinker Bell,” he says, voice deep and pulling at me, tinged with amusement thatinflamesme. “Do you want to play petulance?”
His hand comes down on my ass, the sharp slap almost making me gasp before I catch myself in time, not spilling his goddamncum.
He spanks me again, on the same cheek, the same side. “Is it a spanking you need?” Another spank, in the same goddamn spot. His hand pauses to stroke the sting away, fingertips dipping deep into my cleft. “I know you don’t want to ask, so I’ll give you the choice.” He’s leaning over me, his mouth near my ear. He spanks me again, before even offering me whatever sadistic choice he has, still on thesame damn cheek.
He’s doing it deliberately, I know he is.
