Page 83 of Tempest

I pull my lips in and clamp down with my teeth, used to discipline but so unfamiliar with it when it’s used as a sexual weapon. One that I want aimed at me.

“You’re sore, princess,” Tempest says next, then tongues the shell of my ear. I release a soft moan. His dick responds, pulsing at the small of my back. “Because of the pounding I gave you last night. My cock was too big for your tight cunt then, and it’ll be excruciating now. Isn’t that right?”

When I don’t respond, he bites down on my lobe. I cry out, then moan, “Yes. You’re right.”

“Do you still want it?”

I’m so in the throes of him that I can barely register his voice. My back presses into him, desperate to feel his length, like it’ll prove he’s as throbbing for me as I am for him. “I … I don’t know.”

The heat from his body dissipates as he moves away, and I swallow down the whine for him to return.

“I’ll make it easy for you then,” he says. I don’t turn to face him and instead watch his reflection. Tempest’s eyes, so green and vibrant in reality, have become the center of a mist-coated storm.

I’m so lost in them that I don’t see his arm whip up until it’s too late. His hand clamps around my throat, and my head slams against his firm chest. His other hand moves down, down, until he cups my center, stroking and spreading the pool of wetness that I’ve been adding to since the second he threatened to spread my legs again.

Tempest angles his lips until he speaks into my ear again. “Which kind of man do you want? This one?” He squeezes my throat. “Or this one?” He inserts one finger into my folds.

My chin is forced up. I’m pinned against him, but my writhing is instantaneous, angling for him to go deeper.

“Because I promise you, princess, I can’t be both.” He nips at my ear, then licks. Pain, then comfort. “You have to choose.”

“I want … I want you,” I breathe out.

“I’m only one man.” He sucks on my earlobe, then spits it out with a pop. “I’m confident I’m not the kind of man you dream about. The one who would finger you gently after a firm fuck to make sure you’re sweetly satisfied after, or the kind who would hold you tenderly and allow you to fall asleep in his arms.” He strokes. I sigh. Tempest circles my bundle of nerves and my hips follow suit, a kitten trailing after her new owner.

An intense, burning fire spreads from my core while air constricts in my lungs. My body starts struggling before my mind catches on that he’s strangling me. That he’s digging his thumb into my clit so hard, the sensitivity has turned into my nerves fraying.

“I’m this guy,” he growls, talking as low as he did before but with a distinctive, ominous undercurrent. “The one who will gladly hurt you while he gets off on his own pleasure. The asshole who loved to make your first fuck about being held against your will, and the guy who will happily fill you with his cock while you scream.”

I’m clawing at his forearms, but they’re cinderblocks against my body. My hips buck to get away from the too-intense flare he’s forcing my clitoris to endure, and my eyes feel like they’re about to bulge out of my head.

Tears fall.

My voice bleats.

And he flips me around and slams my back against the shower tiles, only releasing me enough to readjust his grip. His hand splays against my throat again, his thumb finding its mark within my folds. He knees one of my legs up and out of the way, spreading me open.

“Do you want this man’s cock again? Huh?” His eyes take on the color of nuclear war. Neon green. Toxic.

He lifts his hand on my throat enough to slam it back down again, cracking the back of my head against the tile. “I asked you a question. Am I the guy you want?”

I choke on the snot nestled in the back of my throat.

“Say you want me to stop, that you want to go home, and I’ll let you,” he rasps. “Forget this shit, forget this campus, forget me.”

“Y-Y—”

Tempest relaxes his grip enough for me to speak.

“Y-You told me to take my dress off,” I gasp out.

His top lip curls up. “You don’t want access into my world, baby.”

“I want you.”

I’ve wanted you since I was a little girl. I had a taste, and I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re an addiction I can’t break. You’ve fractured my nightmares into tiny, insignificant pieces.

Of course, I can’t say any of that to him, not in our current state. Not ever.

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