Page 81 of Forever We Fall

Her lips part in shock more than compliance.

“Very good,” he praises. “Now, hold this for me. We don’t want everyone to hear.” He stuffs as much of her shirt as will fit into her open mouth. It leaves much of it hanging down her body.

She gives a squeak of uncertainty.

“If you want more, moan for me.” Hota’s gaze pins me to the chair while he drags the soft pink fabric down over the swell of Emily’s breasts.

She moans, and I barely bank one behind my lips.

“If you want to stop at any point, tap three times,” Hota commands. “Do you understand?”

Her blond head nods emphatically.

Her skin is so pale I can see the veins running under the skin of her breasts. The dusky pink of her nipples is only a shade darker, almost blending in. That is, until Hota starts toying with them.

His fingers pinch and pull. His hands knead and rub.

I imagine it’s my dick he’s working with those deft fingers. My crotch is hot, leaking precum into my boxers. I don’t move, too afraid to break the spell.

If he stops or kicks me out and keeps going, I might die.

Emily’s hips sway and rock. Her moans, well, I’m glad they’re muffled. If not, they’d set off a fire alarm or an orgy in the hallway.

“What do you think, Arlo? Should I touch her pussy or make her come just by playing with her tits?” he asks as he pinches the reddened points of her nipples so hard that her head lolls back and her eyes roll back in her head a little too.

I keep my mouth dutifully closed.

Hota’s gaze darkens, hooding under his brows. “Arlo?” he growls.

“Whatever you want,” I finally say, though it’s not the correct answer.

“Whatever I want? Do you hear that, Miss Booth? Whatever I want.” There’s a bite in his voice that hasn’t been there before. I know I put it there. Because he can’t, in fact, have whatever he wants.

He can’t have me.

Goddamn my uncle.

I grip the chair so hard my hands hurt.

“Do you agree, Miss Booth? Should I get whatever I want?”

She nods frantically. “Um-hum. Um-hum,” she mumbles. Her body goes haywire, trying to find friction where she needs it.

Hota releases her breasts and places one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist. He shoves her head and chest onto the bed that’s perfect dick height. His fingers sink into the flesh at her hips, and he pulls her against his crotch.

Still, he watches me.

His hips thrust through layers of fabric, pounding her against his swollen cock.

She moans and wiggles. He stops and flips up her skirt, exposing her matching lace panties that cover only half of her generous ass. He pulls his gaze away from me to map the fabric with his fingers.

“Keep your face on the bed, or I stop,” Hota warns.

Emily nods so hard I wonder if it’ll leave a burn mark on her light skin.

He releases his hold on her and unfastens his belt. His zipper splits the seam and my heart wide open.

Sure, he said he wasn’t going to fuck her, but what if he does? How will I feel?

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