Page 31 of Violent Hearts

Without hesitation, I do as I am told, never breaking eye contact.

"Turn around," is his next command. "Hands on the counter, ass to me."

I obey again, my heart racing with anticipation.

"Hollow your back," he growls behind me. "Make that ass look pretty for me."

My cheeks burn with shame, but I do exactly as he demands. I've never been asked to pose for a man, and it feels as awkward as I thought it would.

"Good girl."

His voice is deep and calm, a total contradiction to my fast beating pulse. I can hear him moving behind me, and my heart jumps when I hear him unbuckling his belt.

“You want to get fucked, don’t you, little girl?”

“Don-“

I bite my tongue. No, I don’t want to argue with him right now. Not if it will ruin this moment.

"Yes, Sir."

I lower my eyes, even though he can't see my face. He steps closer and caresses my ass, causing me to shiver in anticipation. I hollow my back even further, eager to feel his hands at my center, the same as a few days ago. Slowly, painfully slowly, his fingers travel along my skin between my legs, pinching the inside of my upper thigh. I spread my legs, inviting him in.

A hearty moan flees my lips when he touches the soft skin of my labia. I sigh with embarrassment at the slick sound his intrusion makes when he parts my lips and slides his thick fingers through the wetness coating them.

"I knew it," he comments. "Dripping wet."

I hear the sound fabric and flinch in surprise when I can feel something poking against my butt cheeks. It's the tip of his hard cock, and he's slapping it against my ass as he simultaneously strokes himself and toys with my clit.

I groan with pleasure, leaning into his touch and suppressing the urge to turn around so I can see him. I can feel his cock pushed up against me, hard and wet with the slickness of precum, ready to fuck me.

But he doesn't make a move to do it. He lets me squirm on his fingers, writhing and twisting while my entire body begs him to fuck me. When he removes his hand from my center, I'm led to believe that this is it. I’m throbbing, aching to be filled by him.

"You're almost too easy," he says behind me. "So predictable. So responsive. So ready for me at the push of a single button."

I can feel the thick, hard length of his impressive cock resting on my ass when he leans over me, placing his mouth next to my ear.

"This one is not for you," he whispers. "Don't move."

I want to turn around to seek his eyes, but he prevents me from doing so by turning my head away from him.

"Stay!"

And I do. I remain in place, my hands flattened on the counter, my back hollowed, my legs spread, and my core pulsing with need, as he steps back. Despite his words, I expect him to finally fuck me, to claim me as his. I squirm and wiggle, moving my hips from side to side as if to call him in.

He's groaning now behind me, standing very close but not touching me. I can hear him stroking himself, and once I realize what he's about to do, I feel utterly humiliated and angry.

Even when I can feel his hot cum drenching and coating the skin on my behind, I have trouble believing this is happening. He's coming all over my ass and my back, groaning in ecstasy through his release, while I stay in position, shivering as he marks me with his semen, denying me my own release.

My arousal is still throbbing between my legs, and it begins turning into frustration when I realize that he's not planning on doing anything about it. All he wanted to do was to teach me a lesson. He used me and made me act this way just to prove a point. A single tear rolls down my face, a combination of humiliation and frustration and helpless fury.

"Turn around."

I don't want to obey him. Not right now. But when I refuse to move, he forces me to turn around by grabbing my upper arm and tugging me toward him. I try to evade his eyes, but he doesn't let me. He grabs my face and forces me to look up at him, to receive his angry glare.

"Fuck you," I hiss at him, no longer scared of the potential repercussions.

The smug smile on his face makes me want to spit at him.

"Button," he says. "That's what I'm going to call you. Button."

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