Sawyer doesn’t stop rubbing. He doesn’t even let up.
He takes my palm and quickly inspects it before sucking the splinter from my skin. He yanks back with it between his teeth and spits it out before grabbing the back of my neck and dragging my lips to his.
I moan into his mouth while writhing on top of him until his hand pushes me over the edge, and I come for what must be the fifth time today.
But it’s different this time.Welcomed. The invited agony of war instead of the feeble crunch of a mouse inside a lion’s jaws.
Sawyer brings both hands to the button on his shorts while I pant against his neck. His hot length warms my lower belly as he frees himself, and when he jerks my hips into the right spot, I grip his shoulders and lower myself onto him.
He fills me completely, just before the point of pain. The exact amount I need to make my jaw drop and my lungs expand. I grind, my hips moving in ways my brain couldn’t manufacture, and it feels wrong to compare Sawyer to any other man, but my mind does so automatically.
I’ve had sex with two other people in my life. Never have my hips moved without my instruction. Never have I evenconsideredthe appeal of sweaty bodies joined for the sake of orgasm—weaker than I could give myself in my own bed.
Both men have suggested I’m incapable ofletting go.
Sawyer has never given me any other choice.
“Oh, God.” I cover my mouth and tilt my head toward the sky—disrespecting the heavens while taking the temptuous taste of Eden. Because Sawyer is most certainly the Devil and this sort of pleasure is most certainly forbidden.
Isthisthe point of forced orgasms?
Isthiswhat he’s been trying to accomplish?
Give a mouse cocaine, and it’ll starve itself for another taste of sin.
“Say my name.” Sawyer yanks my head back down to lock eyes with him. “Tell me you love it.”
He looks as drunk as I feel. I tell myself he feels it even more.
That this is the first step to truly worming my way into his head, maybe even his heart. To forcing him to see that hewantsme.Needsme—the woman who finally understands him, therealhim, and accepts him as the ‘noble’ and ‘virtuous’ man that he is. He couldn’t possibly let me go. He couldn’t possibly leave without me.
It’s good that he’s a maniac.
They’re not as hard to fool.
“I love it, Sawyer,” I say, breathless as I grind my hips into his, feeling every thrust shoot through my core, up my spine, and down my arms. I feel it in my hands. I feel it in the curl of my toes. I feel it everywhere.
“Come for me, baby.” Sawyer’s hands find my hips before he drags me against him. Slow and hard, my body waving like the sea. I tuck my hand between my legs and put pressure on my clit so I can do what he says. Make the puppet happy.
“Oh, Sawyer,” I cry out as I come apart, my hips jerking as pleasure climaxes. His fingers dig into already bruised hips, and he grunts as he comes with me, our bodies so in sync you’d never know how poorly we fit together.
He lets out one last gust of air before his head falls back and his eyes close. He stays inside of me as I lay down on his chest, cum leaking onto a trimmed patch of hair. Again, I compare him to the other men I’ve been with, both far more beast-like, more natural. I didn’t know how much I liked a man who grooms.
Strange self-consciousness swells when I think of my own all-natural ways, but I let it pass. Because it’s ridiculous.
The shell Sawyer wears around his neck catches my attention when I turn my head and lay my cheek on top of it. I roll off of hiscum-covered length and curl against his side. Drag the necklace from his shirt.
I finger the little shell, its surface chipped and weathered. It’s a strange choice to make into a necklace. I don’t see a billionaire buying this and simply wearing it out.
“So why psychology?” he asks, though I don’t imagine his curiosity is genuine. Only a distraction from the necklace in my hand. I tuck it back into his shirt and prop myself on my elbow.
He watches me with a sleepy, satisfied look. Like I am truly as pleasurable for him as he is for me.
That could be a look all weak men have after sex… But I find myself blushing.
“My father, mostly.” I lift a shoulder as if it doesn’t mean everything to me. As if I haven’t dedicated my life to the human mind and all its wonder. “He owns a corporate intelligence firm called Apex Analytics. I plan on working full-time as a psychological operations specialist when I graduate. Then once he dies, I’ll take over the company.”
Sawyer tucks his arm behind his head to use it as a pillow. He stares at me a few moments, the squint of his eyes making me want to squirm.
