“Look at me,” I demand.
When she raises her gaze to mine, the mix of defiance and shame in those pale blue eyes sends a jolt of hunger straight to my cock.
She’s standing naked before me while I’m fully dressed, yet she manages to hold on to a shred of dignity that makes me want to simultaneously preserve it and shatter it completely.
“You don’t believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are,” I state, not a question but a fact. “So I’m going to show you.”
Without breaking eye contact, I begin to unbutton my shirt, one slow button at a time. Her eyes widen slightly, tracking the movement of my fingers. When I shrug the shirt off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, her gaze drops to my chest, to the tattoos that cover my skin.
“Keep watching,” I tell her as I unbuckle my belt, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room.
Her breathing quickens as I unzip my pants and push them down my legs along with my boxer briefs before stepping out of them. My cock springs free, hard and ready for her. I make no move to hide my arousal—I want her to see exactly what effect she has on me.
I stand before her, completely naked, and let her eyes roam over me. There’s fear in her gaze, yes, but there’s something else too—curiosity, hunger, want. It makes my blood sing to see it.
“Come here,” I say, extending my hand.
She hesitates for only a moment before placing her smaller hand in mine. Her palm is warm, slightly damp with nervousness. I lead her across the room to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall next to my closet, positioning her in front of it.
“No,” she protests weakly, trying to turn away. “Please, I don’t want to—”
“You will,” I cut her off, gripping her shoulders to keep her facing the mirror.
I step behind her, my height allowing me to see over her head easily. Our reflections stare back at us—me tall and covered in ink, all hard lines and angles; her softer, paler, with gentle curves and scattered freckles.
The contrast is fucking magnificent.
Slowly, I lower myself to my knees behind her, drawing her down with me until she’s kneeling as well, her back against my chest. I gather her wrists in one hand, securing them behind her back. The position forces her chest forward, making her full breasts jut out proudly.
“Look at us,” I command, my free hand coming to rest possessively on her hip.
She reluctantly raises her eyes to the mirror, but quickly looks away again.
“I said look,” I growl, tightening my grip on her wrists.
This time she obeys, though her lower lip trembles.
“Tell me what you see,” I demand, my voice rough with desire as I press my cock between the soft cheeks of her ass, letting her feel how hard I am for her.
“I-I see…” she stammers, tears filling her eyes. “I see someone who takes up too much space. Someone with… umm… too much… everything.”
Her words slice through me, igniting a rage I hadn’t expected to feel. Not at her, but at whoever made her believe such bullshit.
“Wrong,” I snarl, my hand tightening on her hip. “Try again.”
A tear spills down her cheek. “I see a fat girl whom nobody wanted. Who’s never been good enough.”
“You want to know what I see?” I growl, moving my hand from her hip to cup her face, forcing her to keep looking at our reflection.
“N-no.”
“What I see is a woman with perfect curves, a woman whose body was made to take mine.” At the mention of taking me, Iroll my hips against her ass. “I see strength in those shoulders that have carried burdens without breaking. I see beauty in every freckle, every stretch mark, every inch of skin I want to taste.”
She shakes her head slightly, disbelieving. “I’m not strong,” she whispers. “I let Sabrina slap me while I just stood there and took it.”
The memory of that moment outside the lawyer’s office flashes through my mind. Alina doesn’t know that I saw it. Or maybe she does. Neither of us mentioned it.
But I saw it, saw her sister’s palm connecting with her cheek, the red mark it left, the way Alina had simply absorbed the blow without fighting back.
