Chapter 19
Grace
“You see what you’re doing to me,” he says in a hoarse voice, so low it’s almost a whisper. “You have no idea how much I crave to be inside you, Grace.”
Despite myself, I moan in response.
Why is this so hot? Why do I feel this surge of excitement flushing down my spine when he’s basically threatening to rape me?
It’s not rape if you want it.
He never said he’d rape me. He said I’d want him eventually.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but he’s making it very, very hard right now.
His eyes are just as hazy as mine must be, and he continues to rub his erection through the fabric of his jeans, while his eyes rest on me. But he’s not looking at my pussy, where the movements of my circling fingers are growing faster with every second, eliciting sparks of bliss that make my body curl in commotion.
No, his eyes are locked on mine, the intensity of his stare so hypnotizing that I cannot look away.
“You want me, don’t you?” he asks under heavy breaths.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Admit it,” he hisses. “I know you’re lying. You want this cock, don’t you?”
I glare at him, my eyes thinning as I fight the truth slipping through my lips. I don’t want him to be right. I don’t want him to know that he’s right.
“Grace,” he urges, now throwing me a stern look. “You know what happens when you lie to me.”
“Yes, fine, yes!” I blurt out, closing my eyes shut, as I feel the sting of agonizing honesty. “Yes, I want you.”
A triumphant smile blossoms on his handsome face, and he nods.
“You can’t have it,” he says, and my heart sinks. Of course, he would humiliate me like this.
“Unless,” he adds, arousing my curiosity. “Unless, you’re willing to trade for it.”
He leaves a little pause, waiting for me to speak, but I don’t give him anything, my lips thinned as I slide a bit deeper into my own touch.
“Would you give up the opened shutters for this?” he asks, jutting his chin down to his crotch.
“No,” I hurry to say, before my body, stupefied by carnal lust can win over my mind. “Never!”
He shrugs, and I’m overcome with disappointment when he steps to the side, fearing he might end this and disappear from my view.
But instead of leaving the room, he steps to the left side of the bed, so close that I could touch him, if I held out my arm.
So close that I could wrap my fingers around his stiffened length, pushing against the thick denim fabric.
“Your choice,” he says. “Won’t stop me from having a little fun of my own.”
I freeze in shock, when he opens the zipper of his pants and pulls them down just enough to reveal a black pair of boxer briefs, strained by his massive erection.
“Keep going!” he warns me, pointing at my idle hand, resting between my thighs. “Don’t stop playing with yourself until I allow you to come.”
“Allow me?” I ask, casting him a quizzical look.
He smiles, wrapping his right hand around his length as he nods. “Oh, yes. Don’t you dare come without permission.”
I do as I’m told, my eyes latched onto his hand, as it travels beneath the briefs to free his enormous erection. He’s huge, so unbelievably big and thick—and I almost lose it when he begins to stroke himself.
“Just imagine this inside of you,” he says in a husky voice. “Stretching your tight little pussy like it has never been stretched before.”
I mewl in lieu of a groan that threatened to flee my lips at his menacing words. His cock is gorgeous, thick and hard as a rock and straight like an arrow, the tip already glistening with precum.
“You want this cock buried deep inside of you, don’t you, Grace?” he asks. “You want to feel the pain as I tear you apart, making you mine like it is meant to be.”
Despite myself, I’m nodding along at his words. I no longer care. My mind is too hazed, too muffled by lust, and blinded by a need so feral that it is impossible to make sense of.
And just like that, I feel it. I feel the first waves of my climax approaching. I look up at him, my vision blurred with desire and my lips parted to speak, but no words come out.
His eyes widen with understanding, and I feel a pinch of excitement when he leans over, hoping he might touch me like he did yesterday. But instead, he yanks my hand away, bringing an end to my impending orgasm just before it was too late.
“You had no permission!” he yells at me, his voice so loud that it almost scares me.
To my surprise, he doesn’t leave it at that, but jumps on the bed, straddling me, so that his stiffened cock is hovering above me as he leans over, grabbing both my hands and pushing them against the pillows above my head.
“You were about to come, weren’t you?” he snaps at me, keeping my hands in place with one hand while he strokes his cock with the other. “Tell me—and don’t you dare lie!”
I close my eyes in shame, writhing underneath him, tortured by the agonizing need to come.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” I cry out, still unable to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t mean to?” he repeats, moving down a bit, so that he’s sitting on my hips, forcing me to close my legs, while his bends forward, his face so close to mine that his hot breath is tickling my skin. “Well, now you’re no longer allowed to come at all. Understand?”
I’m close to tears, unable to move under the weight of his body, so that I’m forced to lay still, my core aching with need while he continues to rub himself on top of me. I thought being forced to come again and again was by far the most painful thing he could do me, but this is a different level of misery. It’s humiliating, mind-numbing and so consuming that I feel like my spirit, everything that identifies me has been cloaked in pitch black darkness, leaving no room for any form of coherent thoughts.
And he makes it worse by stroking his enticing hardness right in front of my eyes. His grip around my wrists tightens, pushing me down with such force that it starts to hurt.
“Fuck,” he groans, just before his entire body jerks up and he erupts under his own climax.
I’m paralyzed, gawking at him under erratic breaths as his hot cum dapples my chest and face. He comes loud and angry, his face contorted as if in pain while he twitches violently under each new wave of pleasure. The tip of his cock is still dripping with cum, when he looks at me, panting and his tan skin glistening with a hint of sweat while he thins his lips in anger.
“You’ll pay for this,” he hisses. “I swear you’ll pay for this.”
My lips are quivering as I struggle to come up with words. Pay for what? Is he really going to punish me for what I did, despite what happened just now?
He lets go of my wrists, but I remain where I am, my arms still above my head and my legs slightly parted, while he jumps off the bed. He pulls his pants up and closes them, glaring at me in the process.
“Come,” he says, grabbing my left arm and dragging me to come with him. “You need to be cleaned.”
“I can do that by myself!” I protest, unsure what the hell is going on with him. Why is he so angry? What I did can’t possibly that bad, can it?
I struggle to climb off the bed, almost getting caught in the leash that’s attached to my permanent collar, as I try to keep up with him.
He pulls me across the room, his hold on me so tight that it might leave a bruise on my sensitive skin. “You don’t really believe I’d trust you to clean yourself right now, do you?”