Page 41 of Morsel

He climbs onto the bed and kneels between my legs.

“You are a mindfuck, Dolly,” he says.

“Am I?”

“You’ve got me feeling crazy,” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

He leans down, and he presses his lips to my belly. He slides us tongue up, carefully gliding between my breasts. He doesn’t touch them.

I want him to.

A moment later, he’s at my neck, and then my lips.

He dominates my mouth, owning everything I am. I reach for him, but Oscar pins my hands down on either side of my side. He kisses me harder.

Faster.

Deeper.

I arch my back up, pressing my breasts into the ship on his chest.

Oscar laughs.

“Feeling eager, pet?”

“I’m not your pet,” I say.

“You always will be.”

He slides his hands down my arms, down my sides, and to my hips. As soon as his hands are there, he slides back. Oscar returns to that kneeling position between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Why are you stopping?”

I want so much more.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.

“I want you to fuck me,” I say quickly. If asking him for what I want gets me that thing, I’m not embarrassed. I’m not scared to ask.

“No,” he smiles. “I don’t think I’ll do that.”

22

Oscar

“Then why the fuck did you ask me?” Dolly asks. I laugh, and I reach for her throat, and I tug her up to myself. I kiss her hard. Then I release her. She falls back onto the bed.

“Because it’s important for us to communicate.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine.”

“I’m not.”

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