Charlie said nothing at first. But his stillness told me he was intrigued. A lovely little ache blossomed between my legs.
“You like some things dirty. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” I whispered, butterflies rioting in my belly.
“I’m not sure you do.”
Slowly, he came off the counter. Bracing my hands behind my hips, I opened my knees, and he stepped between them, sliding his hands up the tops of my thighs. He was so tall, I had to tilt my head back to look at him. Up close his chest was even more imposing, and his shoulders seemed to dwarf mine. Gooseflesh rippled down my arms, and my breaths came fast.
By contrast, Charlie seemed completely in control. His breathing was slow and measured, his hands moving over my hips and beneath my sweatshirt. His eyes stayed locked on mine as his palms slid up the sides of my ribcage and back down, spanning my waist. “Such a tiny little thing.”
“Scared you’ll break me?”
“Yes.” In the near dark, his blue eyes looked black.
In less than a second, Charlie pulled off three moves that had me gasping for air—he yanked me to my feet, turned me around, and kicked my heels apart so my legs were spread and I was bent over the island, arms pinned behind my back. His legs pressed the backs of my thighs, and his hips pushed against my ass.
He was hard.
The power went out completely.
Oh my fucking God.
Panting, I lay my cheek on the cool marble, unsure of what to do next. Between my ears, the message was this is scary. Between my legs, it was this is hot.
“No, don’t give up. Fight me. Come on. Struggle.” His voice was different now—deeper, quieter even, yet more intimidating.
Adrenaline coursed through my body, my heart pounding with fear, with arousal, with shock. I tried moving my arms—he pulled them tighter, clamped my wrists harder. I tried moving my legs—he pinned my hips against the marble, his erection pushing firmly into my flesh. I flexed my fingers—he laughed softly.
“That’s it. Try everything. Scream if you like.”
I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to. It felt like the darkness had weight, like it was bearing down on my back with a force stronger than gravity. Breathing required all the lung strength I had, and I wasn’t even sure I could keep that up.
“Tell me I’m hurting you.”
He was hurting me.
But I liked it.
He yanked my arms mercilessly behind me. “Tell me.”
“You’re hurting me,” I said weakly.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Stop.” Don’t stop.
“Tell me you don’t want this from me.”
“I don’t—want this—from you.” Each word was its own struggle. I meant the words, and yet I didn’t. I wanted him, but knew I shouldn’t. And was this only a game? Was he just testing me? Or, worse, was he back there laughing at me in the dark? I had no way to tell.
“Good girl. You don’t want this from me, sweet thing.” He backed off slightly and somehow imprisoned both my wrists with one of his hands. The other one snaked around to my belly.
And down the front of my pants.
Oh God oh God oh God.
“You don’t want my hands on your pussy.”
Confession: I almost came right there.
His fingers slipped between my legs.
“You don’t want my tongue on your clit.”
He dipped a fingertip inside me, then slowly rubbed silky wetness over the hot little button, which tingled and swelled at his touch.
“You don’t want my cock inside you.” His fingers slid down to my center and plunged slowly inside, leaving me breathless.
He pulled them out and pushed them in again, even deeper this time. Flattening the heel of his hand against my pussy, he rubbed my clit as his fingertips awakened parts of me I never even knew existed. Parts that hummed and ached and tightened like a vise.
“You don’t want me to make you come. Don’t let me.”
Oh fuck, was he serious? Was this part of the game? I had no idea what to do—it wasn’t like I could move away or stop him from touching me. He had me immobilized, his hands controlling every part of me except my mind, and Christ, he had that pretty well dominated too. I’d never felt so powerless over my own sexual responses. And if he didn’t want me to come, why was he touching me this way, making me squirm and writhe and tremble beneath him?
“Tell me not to make you come.”
“Don’t make me come.” My voice was high-pitched and laced with frustration.
“Louder,” he demanded, rubbing me harder, fucking me deeper with his fingers, pushing his hard cock into my ass.
“Don’t make me come!” I cried, even as my legs began to go numb with pleasure and the tension at my core coiled tighter and tighter before exploding in a series of rhythmic contractions that had me clenching around his fingers so hard I thought I might break them.
Before I could feel my feet on the floor again, the power flicked on.
“Oh!” The sudden blast of light shocked me. I’d forgotten every light was on. Charlie pulled his hand from my pants and released his hold, stepping back as if we’d been caught doing something naughty in the closet at school.
For a moment I stayed where I was, cheek on the marble, frozen.
What the hell had just happened?
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