Chapter 13 #2
When I settle into the driver’s seat, I feel her attention shift. She turns toward me, studying my face like she’s trying to read what comes next.
“You’ve been very quiet,” she says.
“I’ve been watching.”
Her mouth curves, uncertain. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It should be.”
I pull away from the curb, the city lights sliding past the windshield. "You're coming home with me tonight." I state. It isn't a question, it's a fact. One she needs to understand.
"You can't just demand such things."
"Yes, I can." I state plainly. This is not negotiable. Part of me expects her to argue, but instead, she stares out the window. She doesn't say a word, but I can feel the tension between us. Halfway to my house, she speaks.
"You don't soften anything, do you?" her voice is not soft. Not in the least.
"No, I don't." I assure her. She shakes her head.
"I could still say no." she says, her gaze drifting to mine.
"But you won't."
"Sounds like a warning." She says.
"It is." I bite, liking her flirtation more than I know I should.
She shifts in her seat.
"You should know I don't scare easily. But I don't like to be blindsided, either."
"That's fair.”
Then she asks, quieter, “Are you going to talk to me like you did in your office?”
I glance at her, catching the curiosity threaded through her nerves.
A low chuckle slips out before I stop it. “Did you like that?”
She meets my gaze. “No one’s ever spoken to me like that during… you know.” She pauses for a beat. “But yeah, I liked it.”
Something dark and pleasing curls in my chest.
I smirk. “Oh, Constance, darling. Degradation is my fucking specialty.”
She doesn’t look away.
And that’s when I know the night is about to cross over from choice into consequence.
By the time we reach my house, the restraint I carried all night is fraying at the edges.
I don’t rush her. We move up the walk together, close enough that I can feel her awareness of me in every step. She doesn’t ask where we’re going. I don’t explain. The answer has already settled between us, quiet and certain.
I unlock the door and step aside just long enough for her to enter. She hesitates for half a second on the threshold—not doubt, just recognition—then crosses it.
The moment she’s inside, I follow.
The heavy oak door shuts behind us with a decisive thud, sealing out the night, the sound echoing through the entryway like the end of something and the beginning of something else entirely.
I don’t give her time to turn around. I take her by the waist and pull her back against the wall, my hands already on her, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress as the last of my restraint finally gives way.
Our mouths crash together, hungry and unyielding. My tongue invades hers without preamble. She tastes like champagne and hesitation; her lips parting just enough to let me in deeper.
“Morgan,” she whimpers.
“Quiet,” I murmur against her mouth, my voice low and commanding. “No words unless I ask for them.”
My hand slides down her side, gripping her hip to hold her still as I kiss her harder, nipping at her lower lip until she winces.
She's trembling already, that delicious mix of want and wariness that pulls me in like a magnet.
I break our kiss, only to tug at her zipper, sliding her dress down deliberately slow.
The fabric divides revealing the lace of her bra; her skin flushed beneath.
“Hold still,” I order, shoving the dress down her thighs until it pools at her ankles. She steps out of it instinctively, but her foot shifts too far, brushing against my leg.
“Did I say move?” My tone sharpens, and I grab her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. “Stay exactly where I put you, or I'll make this last longer than you can handle.”
Her cheeks burn red, but she nods, biting her lip to stifle whatever protest bubbles up.
Good girl.
I unhook her bra with a flick, exposing her breasts—full and heaving with each breath. My thumbs circle her nipples, pinching just hard enough to make her arch and suck in a quick breath, but I press her back flat against the wall.
“No squirming. Take it.”
She's down to her panties now, soaked through already, the dark patch betraying how much she craves this. I hook my fingers in the waistband and yank them down, leaving her bare and exposed in the dim light of the entryway.
“Spread your legs,” I order, and she does as I say without question, thighs parting with a shiver.
My hand cups her pussy, fingers sliding through her slick folds, teasing her clit until she gasps.
“I said quiet.” I slap her inner thigh lightly, the sting making her jolt, but she clamps her mouth shut.
Kneeling before her, I grip her hips to keep her pinned, my mouth hovering over her core.
“You're dripping for me, aren't you? Such a needy little slut.” I lean in, tongue flicking against her clit in a slow, deliberate stroke. She bucks slightly, and I dig my fingers into her flesh.
“Be still. Or I'll stop.” Her body goes rigid, muscles taut as I lick her again, broader this time, lapping at her entrance before sucking her clit between my lips. She tastes salty-sweet, her arousal coating my tongue as I work her relentlessly.
I build her up methodically, alternating between firm sucks and light flicks, my fingers parting her lips to expose her fully.
Her breaths come in short, silent bursts, thighs quivering under my hold.
When she tenses, I thrust two fingers inside her, curling them against that spot that makes her walls flutter.
“Come for me,” I growl against her skin. “Show me how pathetic you get when you let go.”
She shudders, pussy clenching around my fingers as her first orgasm hits.
“Oh, God…Morgan!” she cries, her juices flooding my hand.
I don't stop; I keep licking, sucking harder, driving her through the waves until she's panting, on the edge again.
The second coming builds faster, her hips twitching despite my grip.
I add a third finger, stretching her as I devour her clit, my teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper, a sound I decide to allow this time.
“That's it, break for me.”
“Fuuuck!” she screams as she comes harder, body convulsing, but I push on, tongue relentless until the third orgasm crashes over her. This time, she squirts, a hot gush soaking my chin and shirt as her pussy spasms wildly.
She freezes, horror flashing in her eyes as she looks down, mortified.
“I— oh God, I think I peed,” she stammers, voice breaking, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
Her face heats with embarrassment, hands flying to cover herself.
I rise slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, a smirk curling my lips.
“Peed? No, slut. That's you squirting like the desperate whore you are. Coming so hard you made a mess—embarrassing, isn't it? Can't even control your own body around me.” I grab her wrists, pulling them away to expose her again.
“Don't hide it. You love being this filthy for me.”
She whimpers, shame twisting her features, but her pussy clenches visibly, still dripping.
“On your knees now,” I say, unzipping my pants and freeing my cock, hard and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip.
She sinks down obediently, eyes wide as she takes me in hand, but I tangle my fingers in her hair. “No hands. Mouth only. And if you gag too loud, I'll punish you.”
Her lips wrap around my head, tongue swirling tentatively, and I thrust forward, filling her mouth.
“Suck it like you mean it. Show me how grateful you are to me for making you squirt like that.”
She bobs her head, hollowing her cheeks as she takes me deeper, saliva dripping down her chin. I fuck her face steadily, holding her still when she tries to pull back for air.
“Look at you, choking on my cock after making such a mess on the floor. Pathetic. You're just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? Keep going—make it good, or I'll bend you over right here and spank that wet pussy until it’s red.”
Her eyes water but she sucks me harder, her tongue pressing against the underside of my shaft as I groan. The degradation fuels my thrusts. She's sloppy; eager despite the tears, and it pushes me close too soon.
I pull out with a wet pop, hauling her up by the arm. “Enough. Turn around, hands on the wall.”
She complies, ass presented, pussy glistening and swollen from my mouth.
I drag her back against me, one hand firm on her hip as she gasps for breath. I line myself up, then stop — just long enough to make her feel it.
“Birth Control?” I ask quietly, voice rough against her ear.
She freezes for half a second, surprised by the question. “Yes,” she breathes. “I take the pill.”
“Good,” I murmur, grip tightening. “Because once I start, I’m not stopping.”
Then I line myself up and thrust in deep, burying myself inside her in one stroke. She cries out, but I cover her mouth with my hand.
“Quiet, remember? Or do you want the neighbors to hear what a slut you are? Only I get to hear what a greedy whore you are.”
I pound into her, hips snapping against her ass, each drive claiming her fully.
“Feel that?” I grunt, hand sliding down to rub her clit roughly.
“Your pussy's gripping me like it never wants to let go.
After squirting all over me, thinking you pissed yourself—God, you're embarrassing.
A loyal little secretary who spreads her legs in my entryway.
Beg for it with your body, since your mouth's no good right now.”
She pushes back against me, silent moans muffled, her walls fluttering as another orgasm builds. I don't let up, degrading her with every word—calling her my filthy pet, my dripping mess—until she shatters again, milking my cock until I follow, spilling deep inside her with a final, brutal thrust.
I pull out slowly, watching my cum leak from her, and smack her ass once. “Clean yourself up. But remember—this is just the start. You're mine to discipline, mine to break.” She slumps against the wall, spent and marked, and I know she'll crave the next command already.