Page 27 of Degrading Her

“Now, we have a game to play,” I said. She bit her lip, her hands twitching at the top button of her shirt. “You say you’ll die for your library, but you won’t even show me your tits and pussy.” My lips curled. “Is it an act, or do you truly want co-ownership?”

Her lips opened, her hand hesitating. She knew she wanted this.

“It’s only going to get harder, Fiona,” I said. “If you want theslightestchance at this library, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

She closed her eyes, her breathing hitched, then she unbuttoned her shirt, my eyes resting on that parting of fabric, the curve of her breasts hanging down like raindrops. Her fingertips quickly pulled back the sides of the fabric, exposing those pink nipples, a freckle above her left areola.

I licked my lips. It took every ounce of control not to pull her into my arms and suck them right then.

“Your clit, Fiona.”

She swallowed, her long neck pulsing with elegance. I imagined my cock inside of her as she tried to swallow, her throat squeezing my length. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, the backs of her hands brushing against my trousers. A tuft of hair on her pussy.

No bra. No panties. Such an obedient little plaything.

But the best part?

Dressed like this—me completely clothed and her undone—I had the power, and she knew it. Her cheeks flushed, the tint bleeding over to her neck.

I brushed the backs of my fingertips against the skin of her breasts. She sucked a sharp breath into her chest.

“Do you know how hard you make me?” I asked. She met my eyes. I grabbed my dick through my trousers, the backs of my hands skimming hers so that she could feel me touch myself. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’re so fucking hot like this. Barely clothed. Because you can’t help yourself, can you?”

Her pupils dilated. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She licked her lips.

“You can end this now,” I said. “Say those two words, ‘Please, Sawyer,’ and I’ll move on.” I pressed my lips to her ear: “You can earn your library therightway.”

Her eyes flashed with determination, a slight moment of lucidity in her deep arousal. But she stayed still.

“No,” she said. “I’m not scared of you. I’m going to win, Mr. Feldman.”

She had no idea who she was dealing with.

“Tell me you don’t like it,” I said.

“I don’t like it, Mr. Feldman,” she stuttered, enunciating my name, always repeating it, to remind herself that she couldn’t ever let herself go with me.

“Are you lying?” I asked.

She breathed, “Yes.”

My cock twitched.

“Touch yourself,” I said. “And tell me how much you don’t like it.”

Her hand shook as she reached between her legs, cupping her pussy. “I hate it,” she murmured.

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?” She didn’t say a word, but kept pressing her clit. “What is it about it that you hate, Fiona?” I asked. I leaned on the wall, towering over her. Teasing myself through my pants, I rubbed the head of my cock. “Is it the way I look at you? Is it knowing you do this to me? Is it the fact that you’re telling yourself that it’s for your library when we both know it’s not?” I licked her ear. “How much do you hate it?”

Her mouth dropped open. “So much,” she murmured, her fingers becoming frantic.

“That’s good. You wanted to work for it, and I intend to make you work for it, my little plaything.”

A shiver rolled down her spine, and I grabbed her hand, shoving her finger inside her pussy.

“Fuck yourself,” I said. “Fuck yourself for me.”

Unconsciously, she pressed into me and a bolt of sexual energy surged through my chest. I imagined taking her facedown over my desk until she couldn’t breathe.

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