Chapter 12 – Genevieve
GENEVIEVE
Rhys grabs my right wrist, the one near his chest, and uses it to spin me around. A gasp flees my lungs, and I find myself face down on the bed, bent over the back end of the footboard. My wrist is wrenched up behind my back, and he uses it to pin me down.
There’s obviously something sick in me because my empty pussy clenches, and I don’t like it.
I don’t like that I’m reacting to him. I was trying my luck.
He walked out looking like every book boyfriend I’ve ever read, with six-pack abs without being bulky, tattoos on his arms, a lean waist, boxer briefs that are tight and outline his cock perfectly, and his light brown hair wet and tousled.
I wasn’t expecting it. I was expecting shorts and a T-shirt, but that’s not what I got, and it threw me.
The alcohol burning in my blood made me brave, and for once, I wanted to say fuck it and do something I’d never have the courage to otherwise.
I wanted to know what a fucking man feels like because I’m terrified I’ll go back and all I’ll have is memories and regrets.
“Exhale,” he whispers against my ear, his chest to my back, the hard ridge of his cock nestled between my ass cheeks.
I respond in kind, breathing out slowly even as my vision sparkles behind my eyes.
“What were you doing?” he asks, and my eyes pinch shut. Fuck him. Fuck him for asking me that.
“Nothing,” I throw back at him. “I was checking on your cut.” I don’t mean it, and he knows it, but suddenly all my bravery has evaporated. He got me hot just by walking into the room, and I wanted to feel… I don’t know. Normal. Like a regular woman who knows what a man’s skin feels like.
I don’t even know why. He’s a bad guy, and I’m a good girl. It’s not as though I actually want him to do anything, because the thought of him plunging into me, his cock deep inside my pussy, feeling him break me open from the inside out—
“Why did you kiss me?”
A laugh bursts from my chest. Something is wrong with me.
He’s not someone I should ever want to touch me.
Yet fuck if I don’t. But why? Because I’m lonely and desperate.
That’s why. “Because I was testing something. Because I’m twenty-three and have only lived through books and fantasies.
” And because I’m angry he’s making me feel silly and shamed, I say, “Right now, I’d screw Masters if he showed interest.”
He growls and wrenches my wrist up higher until I whimper in pain. “You would not screw Masters or anyone else you met tonight. Don’t ever fucking say that.”
“What do you care?” I bite back, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
He bypasses my question with his own. “What were you testing, princess? To see if I’d get hard?
” He rubs his cock against my ass cheeks through my shorts.
“To see if I’d rub your tight little cunt and make you come?
To see if I’d take your pretty flower? That’s not going to happen, and it’s sure as hell not part of our deal. ”
That’s not why I did it, but he doesn’t get it.
“Good. Now you can get the fuck off me.” I buck against him, thrusting my ass into his dick in the process of trying to shake him off.
He chuckles and runs his hand down my side until he grips my hips.
“You don’t want me to do that. You’re far too curious.
” He licks the shell of my ear, and I shudder, my eyes squeezing tighter.
“Have you ever touched your pussy before? Run your fingers along your soft lips? Rubbed your hard little clit and shoved fingers inside yourself?”
“Shut up!”
“Do you make yourself come every day, picturing the men in your books fucking you just like this?” He pushes into my ass at the same time he nibbles on my ear, and I moan, unable to stop it or hide it.
I don’t know what’s happening to my body right now.
It’s never this way for me. Even when I do read some things that are on the spicier side, it’s never like this.
I hate how small and predictable I am right now. Embarrassment flames up my cheeks, and I rage with it. I don’t need the goddamn reminder about how sad and pathetic my life has been. Fuck him for teasing me about it. For having all the power and trying to leave me with none. Fuck him!
What he said to me last night, how he tried to seduce and manipulate me, hits me, and with that, a slow, sly smirk curls up my lips.
“Yes.” I twist my head until our eyes meet.
“Does that thought turn you on?” I play, wiggling my ass against him.
“I rub my clit and push my fingers inside myself. I know exactly what an orgasm is.” I wink, reminding him of his words from last night.
“I give it to myself every night. Wouldn’t you like to watch? ”
Fire lights his dark eyes, and for a moment, he simply stares down at me, gauging how far I’ll go.
If I’m bluffing. Except I’m not. What do I have to lose?
Of course I touch myself every night. I explore my body because I have no one else to do it for me.
Honestly, I sort of like the idea of touching myself while he watches, knowing he won’t touch me in return.
It’s the one advantage I have over him. The one thing I’m actually knowledgeable about.
How to make myself orgasm. I also read this in a book.
It didn’t go into details. She started touching herself while he watched, and the chapter ended.
But this is my book, and I can write this chapter anyway I want.
“All right,” he finally says, his voice low and rough. “Show me how you touch yourself, princess.”
He still thinks I won’t do it. It’s all over him.
“Release me.”
He swallows and pushes himself back but maintains his grip on my wrist and uses it to haul me up off the bed and spin me back around to face him. “I want your clothes to stay on.”
I smile. “You think that’ll help you when I have my fingers inside of me, and I’m moaning like a sweet little whore for you?”
He glares. This is so much fun.
I shrug. “Works for me, but you’ll regret it. I look incredible naked.”
His eyes narrow. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
I simply smile at him. He likely knows the answer, but I don’t have to tell him.
His teeth capture my bottom lip, and he bites down hard. Hard enough to make me jerk back in pain and surprise, even as a fresh bolt of lust sweeps through me. Holy shit. His lips didn’t touch mine, but still.
“Get on the bed for me, princess.”
I squint at him. “Are you running this or am I?”
He laughs and releases my wrist so he can use his hand to wave toward the bed. “By all means, lead away.”
Nerves hit me, but I’m not backing down.
I climb onto the bed over the footboard, giving him a view of my ass with me on all fours as I crawl over to the pillow. He curses under his breath, and I can’t stop my triumphant smile, knowing he can’t see it.
I fall onto my back and adjust the pillow behind me so I can prop myself up.
He hasn’t moved, and I don’t know what I was expecting him to do—maybe lie on the bed beside me—but the way he’s standing is more intimidating.
His eyes are cast down on me, his chest, tattoos, and hard cock on full display.
Arousal spikes and heats my blood to a near boiling point as desire coils low in my belly.
With a shaky breath, I run my hand up my tank top and cover my breast. And if I thought his eyes were dark a moment ago, they’re blacker than midnight now.
His cheeks flush, and his lips part, and I get lost, no longer feeling shame or humiliation, but pure, driving lust.
My other hand slides down my body and slips into my shorts.
I cup my pussy over my underwear before I push the center to the side.
My legs spread wider, and I hold his gaze as I push a finger in, coating it with my wetness.
I pump in and out a few times before I ring my entrance.
I haven’t touched my clit yet. I like the tease.
The build-up. I always imagine the guy doing this to me likes that it makes me squirm.
That he loves touching me and looking at me.
It makes it so much better when I do finally submit.
“You’re wet,” he says, not a question.
“Yes.” My voice isn’t my own.
“Show me. Push two fingers inside yourself and show them to me.”
My breath hitches and nerves rattle me. “Why?” I ask, not understanding. Why would he care about how wet I am?
“Show me,” he repeats, this time firmer.
I do as he says. I push two fingers in, my hips rolling and arching to accommodate, and I slip my knees up to make it easier.
“If two fingers are a tight fit, you’ll never manage a cock as big as mine.”
I smirk. “Full of yourself?”
He grins devilishly. “See for yourself.”
I glance down, and the outline of his cock is thick and long, and yeah, that wouldn’t fit. “Good thing you’re not planning to fuck me then.”
“Good thing. Your fingers,” he demands.
I squeeze my breast, running the flat of my palm over my nipple.
It’s so hard, and I want to touch my chest without the shirt, but that’s not what this is tonight.
Not that it matters. He sees them, and I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I almost laugh. I have no clue what I’m doing.
It’s easier with him telling me what to do.
I give myself another pump and pull my fingers out. They glisten with my arousal, and he licks his lips as if he can taste it.
Without waiting for more orders, I slip my hand back into my shorts and underwear and push two fingers into myself again.
Except that something he said is sticking with me.
I don’t want to be a virgin forever. He may not be the guy to take it, but hopefully, some guy will someday.
I scissor my fingers a bit as I plunge them in and out.
It feels different than anything I’ve done before—not unpleasant, but more of a stretch—and I grind down into my hand. If this is how it would feel to have sex, I have no complaints. I do this a few more times and finally give in and rub my middle finger in a circle around my clit.