Page 88 of Please Hate Me

“No, we’re not. I’m just helping you get dressed,” she sang. “Unless...”

She moved a hand, walking her fingers along my clavicle. Chills ran down my spine at her touch.

“... Someone’s having some impure thoughts.”

My mouth went dry, and I had to look away. My chest was tight, my face hot.

“I’mnot.”

“Oh good, then you won’t mind if I help you,” Sophia stated, ignoring my accusatory tone as she untied the black ribbon in my collar.

She may have freed my neck, but breathing didn’t come any easier. Especially as her fingertips feathered down my chest while she unbuttoned my shirt. Sophia took her time removing the garment and placing it back on the hanger.

“Do you want to take off your bra, or can I do it?” she asked.

I looked down at my beige sports bra that felt about three sizes too small. My hands started to shake as I fought with the restrictive material. It rolled up as I raised my arms, making it even tighter and more difficult to remove.

Sophia gently took my hands and guided them away.

“Here, let me help.”

She brought her face close enough for the tip of her nose to touch mine, closing her eyes as she slipped her fingers under the band that was digging into my skin.

An audible sigh of relief filled the space between us as she pulled back, slipping the bra off over my head. I leaned back against the mirror and closed my eyes as Sophia’s hands found my breasts. They were so swollen it hurt, but I was rapidly learning that everyone in the house found that sexy instead of disgusting.

Her touch was infinitely more gentle than Lucian’s as she started to massage me; my sigh of relief morphed into a quickly stifled moan.

“Am I hurting you, Honeybee?” she cooed.

“N-not at all,” I breathed.

Sophia’s breath ghosted my lips, and I opened my eyes to find her face so close I had to cross my eyes to see her clearly.

“Are you still worried about getting in trouble?”

My head said yes. I didn’t want to get kicked out—or, God forbid, arrested. But my heart was in a haze.

“No,” I whispered.

“Don’t lie to me, Honeybee. You know I hate it.”

Sophia moved a hand to my thigh, softly tracing the hem of my skirt. My pulse thundered as a dull heat filled my stomach.

“I’m a little worried,” I admitted.

Her fingers were warm as they slipped under the fabric. I held my breath as she found where my underwear met my thighs.

“Don’t worry, I’d never do anything that would tarnish my good girl’s reputation. Youarestill my good little girl, right?”

In my memories, sex with Sophia wasn’t nearly as rough as it was with Lucian—or even Cameron, for that matter. But make no mistake, she was always in control. Calm but firm, her gentle form of domination never failed to keep me in check.

“Say it for me, Honeybee. Tell me you’re my good little girl.”

She liked to embarrass me, to force me to submit to her using my own words. Humiliation was just as powerful as physical pain when it came to turning me on.

God, did I need therapy?

She slipped a finger under the fabric, brushing it against my hip, so tantalizingly close to what I really wanted her to touch.

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