Chapter Five
Rosie
I nod slowly, wondering if maybe I was in a crash on the way here and this is the coma dream I’m currently having. That stuff really happens to people. I saw a movie on it once. This girl was in a coma for six months and she had this series of dreams where she was married to this great guy. They had kids, a dog, spent their weekends at the lake house, and had a perfect life. When she woke up, she believed it all so wholeheartedly that people had to take her where she thought her home was and show her that she didn’t live there.
Maybe that’s what’s happening to me. Maybe this whole thing is a coma delusion.
Truthfully, I’m not sure I care either way.It feels real. The heat from his hand hovering over my skin, careful not to touch me, though there’s a feral look in his eyes that says the urges have taken over.
“Take off your clothes.” He steps back, his gaze like fire heating me from the inside out. “Take them off slowly. I need to see you.”
I haven’t taken my clothes off for anyone, ever, but I don’t want to tell him that. I want him to think I’m experienced, that I have something to offer. Not that I’m some squeaky-clean little virgin with a pussy so tight that I’m not even sure everything down there works yet. What would a man like Professor Wilderwant with a girl like that? Heck, I don’t even know why he wants me at all.
I should ask.
No, I shouldn’t ask. I should act confidently, sure of myself, like I do this all the time.
My cheeks turn to hot coals as I strip down for him. My shorts first, slow and careful as he asked, until they’re pooled on the floor at my feet.
His gaze drives up from my toes, landing on my puffy, pink pussy.
“Fuck,” he growls low under his throat as he leans up against the back wall. “This is so fucking wrong, little girl.”
Little girl.My heart hammers against my chest as his reward slams into me like lightning. I never thought I’d like being called a little girl, but the way he says it makes me feel soft and sweet, like he wants to take care of me, cherish me, adore me.
I’ve never been adored before. Not like this.For the most part, I take care of everyone and everything. It’s been like that since my mom died.
Staring toward him in the shadowed room, I peel off my tank top, the last bit of clothing I wore here falling to the floor.
From here on out, I’m nude. Completely, absolutely, stark naked.
My arms fly up instinctually, desperate to cover my heavy breasts from his view, but I force them to my sides again, pretending to be like the confident girls I’m sure he’s used to.
“Your body is… incredible,” he groans and steps forward, stroking his massive cock as he grins. “Can you do a spin for me?”
I’m not sure I can fake the confidence that comes along with a spin, but I smile and offer him one anyway, prompting a low, heavy growl from his throat.
“Jesus Christ, the things I want to do to you.”
My pussy twitches and my lower tummy tightens as it responds to the savage sounds his throat makes when he talks.
I’ve never been wanted like this in my life. Even my fantasies are more reserved than this.
This man is hungry. No, I’d say the way he’s drinking me in right now, he’s starving, though I can’t figure why he’d ever be starving forme.
He’s big, tall, wide, muscled, interesting, smart, and a little edgy. A man like this is a walking panty dropper. I wonder how he even gets through the grocery store. Do women stop him and offer to have his babies on a regular basis? Maybe that’s why he’s always wearing the grumpy face. It’s a defense mechanism to deter all the lonely, horny women.
Slowly, he steps forward, his massive frame creaking the old wood floors in his cabin as he walks. “This is painful.” He groans and hovers his thumb over my lower lip.
“I told you I’d help quell your urges.” I hold my gaze on his as I speak, trying to assert the confidence I don’t have.
He shakes his head and continues backing me up until I’m sat on his bed, staring up at him. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re a virgin. I can see it in the way you move.”
I’m not sure what to do with the statement but I’m a little insulted. “In the way I move?”
