Hate that she's watching. Hate that she told me. Hate Ryan. Hate myself.
Hate that I can't stop.
Love that it'sherthat makes me so sick.
The release doesn't help. Instantly, I'm hard again.
Scarletta notices. Her eyes go wide before she can stop them. Then she looks at me. "You're pathological."
"Absolutely," I moan. Stroking again. Ready to come a third time.
"You're a walking nightmare."
"Yes. A certifiable fucking monster. What's your point."
The incredulous look on her face makes me smile. Then it's my turn.
"You want to know your taste in men, baby?" I keep stroking, slow and deliberate. "Let me tell you. Your taste in men isme."
She opens her mouth to protest.
"You begged me to fuck your throat in that cabin. Begged me to make you gag on my cock until you couldn't breathe. You came so hard you blacked out—multiple times—and every time you woke up, you wanted more."
"I don't remember that," she says, but her voice wavers.
"I know you don't. Subspace psychosis, remember? But I recorded everything." My hand moves faster. "You on your knees, choking on my dick, tears streaming down your face while you moaned around my shaft. You bent over the table, spread wide, begging me to fuck your ass. You strapped to the cross, screaming for me to hurt you harder."
"Stop—"
"You came seventeen times in four hours. I counted. You passed out twice from the intensity and woke upbeggingfor mycock inside you again." I'm jerking myself hard now, watching her face flush. "You told me you needed it. Needed me to use you like the desperate little slut you are."
"You're disgusting," she spits.
"Says the woman who just fucked her gym trainer with her legs in stirrups."
"At least I can get off without jerking myself like a lonely fucking teenager!"
I grin. Stop stroking just long enough to spread my arms wide—cock standing hard and obscene between my thighs. "I've got more come inside me for you, Scarletta. All you have to do is sit on my lap."
She stops breathing.
Complete stillness. Her chest freezes mid-inhale.
I've won.
"Come here, baby," I say softly, switching tactics. Sweet now. Coaxing. "Let me make you feel good. You know Ryan didn't get you there—not really. Not the way you need."
Her eyes flick to my cock. Back to my face.
"Just walk over here. Drop that towel. Straddle my lap and sink down on my dick." My voice drops lower, intimate. "I'll fill you up so perfectly. Stretch that sweet little pussy the way it's meant to be stretched. You can ride me as slow as you want. Or I'll grab your hips and fuck up into you until you scream."
Her breathing starts again—shallow, rapid.
"I'll rub your clit while you're impaled on me. Make you come so hard you forget Ryan's name. Forget your own name. Just be my good little slut taking exactly what she needs."
Her knuckles go white around the towel.
"All you have to do," I whisper, "is sit. On. My. Lap."
