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The hard length of him slides between my butt cheeks. “The only thing I want you to think of for the next twenty minutes, is me.”
“Twenty?”
“I’m being optimistic. Probably gonna last five once that pussy of yours starts squeezing me.”
I turn in his arms, the shampoo still in my hair, and kiss him hard. Because I’ve spent the last few hours crying and panicking, then finding moments of cool and calm and focus. We’ve spent hours strategizing what may happen to my swamp, to my career, to me.
My entire life has become something other people want to control.
The university. The dean. Velaro. Bennett. Even Mina.
I feel so powerless, and yet, I want to believe Sunny that this isn’t how it ends.
Sunny suddenly shoves me under the water and it rinses the soap from my hair as I splutter.
“Warning, next time,” I manage to say.
“Just trying to keep you on your toes.” He brushes his hands along his split lip. “And to give this a breather.”
“Oh my God,” I say, pushing hair back from my face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, pulling me close to grab my lower lip between his teeth.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be soothed. I want it rough.”
Understanding sweeps across his features. “Understood. One ‘make you stop thinking’ special coming up.”
Sunny spins me around so quickly that my face is pressed up against the cool, white tile of the bathroom before I even fully register the move. His hand slides into my wet hair so I don’t crack my head against the wall. Even now, when I’ve specifically asked him to be rough, there’s a hand between me and anything that might hurt me.
And I have to swallow down the realization because it brings an emotion I don’t want to feel right now.
His teeth bite into my shoulder. Harder this time. Hungrier. His body crowding mine until there is absolutely nowhere for me to go.
“How does it feel, knowing I can hold you like this and you can’t move or fight back?” Sunny asks.
The contrast is almost unbearable. Cold tile against my chest. Hot water pouring over me. Sunny behind me, solid and warm and unyielding.
“It feels like the good kind of wrong.”
Even though I trust him implicitly, there is still a ripple of something adjacent to fear. Of not knowing how I would get out of this if I had to.
“Good. Now, beg me to fuck you, Della. And I don’t mean just saying please. Beg me.”
“Sunny,” I gasp.
“No.” His mouth brushes over my ear, making me shiver. “That’s my name, but it’s not begging.”
I close my eyes. This should be easy. They’re only words, and I know more words than the average person. And yet…
“Please, Sunny.”
“Pathetic, Della. I want begging. I want you to tell me why only I will ever get to fuck that beautiful cunt of yours.”
The language is jarring, and yet, totally appropriate. His arm slides between me and the wall, dropping lower and lower until he cups me. But instead of giving my clit some relief, he dances over it with his fingertips. Almost like the flutter of a butterfly wing. I try to move against him, to grind, to find some friction, but he eases his fingertips even farther away.
A frustrated whimper escapes me. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Yes. You do.” The words are said with certainty. “Right down in the most base level of your gut. They’re all there, Della. You’re just too scared to say them to me. Nothing you could say would offend me. I want to hear you beg.”
