Chapter 2 #2
I take a shaky breath and slowly get to my feet. It takes all my willpower not to cover my breasts in front of him.
It occurs to me just before he tells me to turn around and face away from him: I’ve never been this unclothed in front of a man before. After I turn, I tremble when I feel his gaze drag slowly over my bare back to the microscopic leather skirt barely covering my ass.
“I didn’t notice you putting anything on after you took off your panties earlier.”
Heat floods my face, even as that darkness coils in my core, ready to strike.
“Have a seat, little villain.”
It's a battle to stop myself from shivering right in front of him.
“W-where?” I say, my voice breathy in a way I didn’t expect. It’s not terrified like I thought it would be when I opened my mouth.
“I’ll show you.”
This time, I do shiver when the words tease against the small of my back. He’s mere inches away.
“I’m going to put my hands on you now.”
The way he warns me before he actually touches me is…
Well, I want to say “comforting”. But that suggests that I’m currently uncomfortable.
…And I’m not.
Nervous? Yes. A little scared? Also yes.
But at least half of that fear is stemming from me not being as terrified as I really should be in this situation.
Maybe it’s because he’s obviously been here since I first walked in and hasn’t done anything to me yet.
He could have grabbed me the second I came in, or after I locked the door. Or while I was naked.
Even now, standing right here clearly within his grasp, he doesn’t have to ask me to do anything.
He doesn’t have to “warn me” that he’s about to touch me.
I’ve watched a thousand videos of this man.
He’s huge and built entirely of pure muscle.
I’ve seen videos where he walks through a doorway and the top of his head almost brushes the doorframe.
Me, I’m five foot four.
There is literally nothing I could do to stop him from doing anything he wanted, and we both know it.
And yet, here he is, warning me that he’s about to put his hands on me. I realize there’s a difference between telling and asking, and that this is the former.
But still, it feels…nice, in a weird way?…that he does.
My body jolts when I feel his big, strong hands wrap around my hips. Heat flickers through my core, and I bite down on my bottom lip as I feel his warm fingers tighten on my bare skin.
He pulls me back to him, and my breath comes out in a faltering rush as I feel him bring me down onto his lap, settling my ass against the rock-hard muscles of one his thighs.
I’m shaking.
I can’t help it. I also can’t stop it. But then his hands tighten on my hips, like a firm, grounding squeeze.
The shaking stops.
Silence descends over us like a shroud. I swallow heavily, chewing on my bottom lip and unsure if I should turn around to look at him or not.
The second tick by, until I’m drowning in suspense.
“W-what…” My throat bobs again. “What are you going to do to me?” I finally whisper in a choked voice.
“I’m not going to do anything to you,” he rumbles at the nape of my neck.
My brow furrows in confusion.
“You, little villain, are going to do something to me.”
I gasp quietly when I feel his fingers brush my hair back over my shoulder. I can feel him press into me, his insanely muscled chest against my bare back as he leans close to the ear he just brushed my hair away from.
“You’re going to dance for me, baby.”
Hot, aching viciousness slithers through my center.
“What?” I whisper.
His big hands tighten on my hips again.
“You’re going to dance for me,” he growls. “Right here, like a good girl.”
Jesus.
A lap dance.
He wants me to give him a fucking lap dance.
I swallow. “I-if I do that—”
“Not if. When.”
I tremble.
“Will you let me go?”
Instantly, his hands drop from my hips.
“There’s nothing stopping you from going now, if you want.”
I tense, then chance a half-glance at him over my shoulder.
Fuck.
He’s right there, that black, crown-painted mask behind my right ear.
“If…if I left now,” I murmur. “You’d delete the video?”
A sound that might be a chuckle grates abruptly from behind the mask.
“No.”
My lips tighten. “But if I do do this…” I tremble slightly. “You’ll delete it?”
“It can’t hurt your chances, put it that way.”
My pulse jumps when soft, sensual music suddenly starts to play from his phone speaker.
My brows knit, and I half-glance at him over my shoulder again.
“I… I haven’t agreed to do anything.”
“No, but we both know you’re going to.” My pulse skips again as his chest muscles flex against my bare back as he leans into my ear from behind. “We both know you want to, little villain.”
The music keeps playing.
“Pretend you’re filming content,” he murmurs quietly. “Like the videos I’ve seen where you’re kneeling on a bed, moving your hips.”
My eyes widen.
He’s…seen my videos before?
Just as I’m thinking that, I jolt. He didn’t warn me before he put his hands on my hips this time.
“Like this,” he rumbles.
He starts to roll my hips, moving my lower body in slow, sensual circles. Then in an equally slow bucking motion, front to back.
My face suffuses with heat as I feel him pull me down on him a little harder, still moving my hips for me, until I’m literally grinding on his thigh.
Oh God, no.
No.
The fact that I’m not wearing anything under my skirt was mortifying before.
Now, it’s a definite liability.
Because as he grinds me harder against his lap, I start to feel the…friction of his pants and the tight muscle of his thigh right against my bare pussy.
And God help me, I start to react.
The Ghost Prince’s hands leave my hips. I try to stop, but he doesn't let me.
“Now it’s your turn,” he murmurs in that deep, rasping, mechanized tone.
Suddenly, heat erupts on one cheek of my ass, followed by a stinging sensation so sharp that I yelp.
He’s just lifted my skirt and spanked me.
“What the fu—AH!”
I choke out another yelp when he does it again. But this time, heat melts through my face and my neck to pool down in my core as a deliciously vicious sensation ripples through me.
“Now,” he growls in my ear. “Be a good girl for me, little villain, and dance.”
Maybe I could run for it. But that would mean he releases the video and destroys my world. Both my dads would spend the rest of their lives and every cent they have tracking him down and removing his head from his body, of course, but in the meantime, it would all be out there.
My worst secret.
All my sins, laid bare to the world.
And that’s what I tell myself is why I start to move. That’s the lie I sell to my own soul as the explanation why my hips begin to roll.
Why I start to grind on his lap. Why I refuse to acknowledge the forbidden ripple which accompanies the friction of my bare pussy against his thigh.
“Fuck.”
The guttural curse from behind me is unexpected.
…and weirdly empowering.
When he groans again, and his hands return to my hips, I feel a throb of need pulse deep inside me.
A roar that won’t be muzzled.
A spark, catching fire.
My pulse courses faster, my skin growing warmer as his hands tighten on my hips. He rocks me back and forth, until this is less a lap dance and more me straight up humping his leg.
I try.
I try so hard to stop the electric sensation that pulses between my legs.
I try to ignore the slick wetness that I feel gradually coating my inner thighs, and the way I can feel it soaking into his pants when his grip tightens on my skin, or when he lets another deep, masculine groan tumble from the modulator.
“You’re doing so good, little villain,” he says against my neck. “Being such a fucking good girl for me.”
Jesus Christ.
Pure fire ignites inside me, blazing through my veins like napalm. One of his hands leaves my hip, and it’s only then that I realize he’s not the one making my hips roll in slow circles and grind down hard on his rock-hard thigh.
I am.
I’m the one in control even as I completely lose control.
I'm the one shamelessly humping his leg like a cat in heat. The one still trying to tell herself she’s not enjoying this.
My back arches, my nipples tighten to aching points, and my pussy floods his pants with the slippery slickness of my lies.
My breath begins to come in short, halting gasps. My eyes hood with desire as the maelstrom swirls and roars inside me.
When his hand slides up my ribs and then cups my left breast, all I can do is whimper. When he takes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it, all I can do is cry out as a fresh flood of wetness coats my thighs.
“Don’t think for a moment I can’t tell how fucking messy that greedy pussy is getting, grinding on my cock like a good girl.”
For a fraction of a second, my brows knit and my rhythm falters.
What?
His thigh pulses and twitches against my pussy through his pants.
Holy shit.
The thick muscle I’ve been shamelessly rubbing my pussy against is his dick.
His dick, which is so thick and huge that I thought it was his thigh.