CHAPTER 3 #3
I don't know what to say, though, so I say nothing. After an excruciating minute of silence, he digs his hands in deeper. His fingers slowly creep under the hem of my pale pink shirt until they're resting on my bare skin. My entire body feels like it's on fire.
He pulls me closer to him so that our torsos are touching. The button of my linen skirt presses up against the crotch of his jeans.
I can feel his hardness pressing into me. Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into? I think, swallowing hard.
One of his hands stays wrapped around my bare waist while the other snakes up my back until it's gripping the back of my neck. His hand is so large that he can almost wrap it around my throat.
He pulls my head towards his so that he's whispering into my ear again. His voice is thick like syrup and deep.
“Let me get this straight,” he says as he begins to trace small circles on my bare waist. The other hand, which is wrapped around the back of my neck, inches up slightly and then grabs a fistful of my hair. He crunches his fingers around a chunk of it and pulls ever so slightly.
To anyone around us, it would just look like he had a hand on the back of my neck, like a boyfriend or something. Only I know that he's gripping some of my hair. If he pulled hard, he'd be able to disable me.
I'm totally under his control, which is thrilling and frightening. I know he's doing it on purpose. I also know, for some reason, that he can tell I like it. I'd never admit that, of course, but there's a knowing between us. It doesn't need to be said, but we both know.
He pulls on my hair ever so slightly, exerting downward pressure. It's a small movement and it barely hurts. It just signals his dominance, that I'm like putty in his hands.
I feel myself melt a little. He does it once more, and I fall into his chest. His cock presses harder up against my belly, and I feel wetness between my thighs.
“Let me get this straight,” he repeats once more into my ear. “You decided to come to a house party by yourself on a Tuesday evening and get drunk. And then when you felt like you weren't getting enough attention, you decided to throw your drink on the first guy you saw.
“And then when he didn't react the way you wanted, you thought you'd insult him, call him homeless, hoping to pick a fight. Am I right?”
I shake my head, blush creeping up my cheeks. He tugs on my hair. “Then explain yourself, little girl,” he says.
“First,” I mutter, “I'm not a little girl.”
“Oh, really?” he chuckles.$1“You sure look little to me.”
I stare up at him. It's hard to deny that. He's about 6'4” and I’m 5’3”. Still, I'm not going to give in that easy. I decide to ignore the comment.
“Well, I came here with a friend,” I say.
He laughs, and I feel slightly annoyed.$1“Oh really? An imaginary friend?” he asks.
“No,” I retort.
“Well, where is this non-imaginary friend, then?” he asks.
“She's—” I pause as I scan the room. Where the fuck is Christine?
The truth is, I have no idea.
“I don't know where she is right now,” I say, feeling embarrassed, “but I did come with a friend.”$1“Oh, okay,” he says as if he’s obviously humoring me.$1“Is that it? Is that the only thing I got wrong?”
“No,” I say, pursing my lips. “I'm not drunk either, so you got that wrong.”$1“Oh, so you just tripped then to get my attention?” he asks.$1“Is that it? You wanted me to save you?”
I shake my head.
He raises his eyebrows.$1“Oh really? Why did you fall then?”
I pause.$1“I'm just clumsy?”
He laughs. “Doesn’t sound like you even believe that lie yourself, little girl.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss. “Somebody might hear.”$1“Good,” he says.
He gives my hair another little tug and then begins to trail his hand down my back. He stops right at my lower back, at my tailbone. He rests his hand there, right on my lower back, right above my ass, for a few seconds. It takes me a few seconds to realize I'm holding my breath.
I'm waiting to see what he'll do next. I feel like I'm watching a horror movie and waiting for the jump scare, except the jump scare isn't a monster, or at least, the kind of monster you'd expect.
“Do you want to know what I think?” he asks.
The hand that was around my waist runs up my side. When he gets to my rib cage, he pauses for a second. I inhale sharply.
“No,” I mutter.
He ignores me.
His thumb is getting dangerously close to the underside of my breasts. He deliberately pauses for a few seconds, or at least it feels deliberate. We lock eyes.
He runs his hand up higher to my collarbone. I almost feel disappointed.
His thumb rests in the groove of my neck, right at the top of my collarbone, and then it slides upward until it's right underneath my chin.
Using just his thumb, he drags my chin towards him. I stumble forward, closer to him. We're pressed so close now that I can feel his heartbeat.
It’s such a small movement—just his thumb—but it draws me closer to him and throws me off balance.
He smiles knowingly. It's such a small thing, but in that small act, he somehow shows how much stronger he is. How he could have his way with me at the drop of a hat if he wanted.
My face heats up. I feel excited and suffocated at the same time. I want to run and hide. I'm paralyzed. I'm feeling everything all at once.
“I think,” he says, leaning close to me, “you’re trying to provoke me.
I have no idea if you're clumsy or just want attention.
And frankly, I don't care. All I care about is the fact that there's a beautiful girl standing right in front of me who's begging with her eyes and her behavior to be thrown over my lap and punished.”
Oh my god, I can't believe he just said that. I instinctively turn my head to the side to see if anybody heard what he said. He captures my jaw with one hand, forcing me to look at him.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says. “You're not going to wiggle your way out of this one. Now answer me: am I right or am I wrong?”
The hand on my lower back dips lower until it's resting on my ass. I'm frozen. People I know might see. Christine is probably here somewhere, and there are probably other people from NCT too. But as much as the thought of people seeing terrifies me, it also turns me on.
I don't have it in me to admit that he's right, but I don't want to deny it either, because then he might walk away, and I don't want that.
He stares at me for some reason. I feel like he sees it, my inner conflict. Maybe it's because I've already admitted more to him than I've admitted to my best friends. For half a second, compassion flashes across his face, and then it disappears.
“Here's what we're going to do,” he says, lowering his voice to a sexy rasp. “I'm going to head to the bathroom. I'll be out in about two minutes. When I come back, if you're still here, standing right in this spot, I'm going to assume you agree with me.”
He pauses and stares at me.
“Agree with what?” I ask, my tongue heavy in my mouth.$1“That you need to be punished,” he says, the right corner of his mouth sneaking upward. He swallows, and I notice his Adam's apple bulge. My stomach clenches. Oh my god. Adrenaline spikes through me.
“But,” he continues, “if I come back and you're gone—near the drinks table, in the bathroom, or anywhere else besides this exact spot—then we'll forget this ever happened.”
He pauses for a split second, and his hand gently rakes its way up from my ass to my lower back. It rests there, and then he lets go.$1“I'll see you in two minutes, sweetheart,” he says. He drops one of his hands to my waist again and pulls me in close to him.