Page 21 of Black Sheep

“What…what are you doing?” Again I hear the shakiness in her voice. The sound transmits straight to my groin, and my cock hardens.

I tuck the gloves into my back pocket and crawl onto the bed. Bunching one fist into the sheet, I yank it off her.

The thin material of the silk or satin or whatever the fuck she’s wearing glimmers as she attempts to move away again. I crouch over her, planting my hands on either side of her shoulders.

“What the fuck did I say?” I mutter. My voice is low, harsh and rough, probably owing to the effect of the long, smooth legs rubbing together in the anxiety she’s fighting. Probably owing to the fact that I’ve lost my goddamn mind. But the vulnerability she’s trying to hide is turning me on more than I anticipated. And I’m in no mood to stop. “Take that nightgown off,” I growl.

She stops moving, but the eyes that find mine in the dark spark with pure defiance. “No.”

I smile. “Okay.” I push back and rest my knees on either side of her hips. Then I reach for the neckline of her flimsy gown and rip it apart.

Her gasp echoes around the room before wrapping itself tight around my cock. Her hands fly up to cover herself.

“Stop.” My command is deadlier than before.

Her face tells me she’s thinking about disobeying, but slowly her hands return to her sides. Her submission makes me harder as my gaze travels over her supple body. Lush breasts, heavier than I remember, flat smooth stomach, the faintest shadow of a bush behind the covering of her panties.

I take all of that in, twice, my cock throbbing behind the prison of my fly. I want to grip myself, ease the ache, but I don’t.

After a full minute of withstanding my scrutiny, she begins to squirm. “I…I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I’m not going to let you—”

“I’m not going to rape you. Hell, I don’t even want to fuck you.” Fucking liar.

Puzzlement drifts over her face. “Then what—?”

“Have you been fucked tonight?” My voice is rougher. Harsher.

She inhales sharply, and then her hair slides on the pillow as she shakes her head. Hers is the only scent I smell in the room. But she could’ve changed the sheets. Showered.

“Were you fucked last night?” I press.

Again, a negative answer. A third question hovers on my tongue. When was the last time he fucked you? “Why should I believe you?” I ask instead.

“What makes you think I care whether you do or not?” she throws back.

I look down her body then back up. “You think this is a good time to test me?”

She fidgets. The movement draws my gaze to her full, luscious breasts, and my breath truncates.

“You’re not going to rape me, and you don’t want to fuck me so I’m assuming you just want to humiliate me with a Peeping Tom moment before you go on your way.”

“Is the thought of humiliation the reason your nipples are hard, sweetheart?” I mock, ignoring the saliva that fills my mouth at the sight of the tight peaks.

“I’m cold,” she responds cuttingly.

“Sure you are.” The room is ambient, the air-conditioning on a low setting. “I guess that’s also the reason you’re breathing faster?”

She squirms a little more, her legs twitching beneath me. “Is there a time scale on this creepy interrogation?”

“Your beauty sleep can wait a little longer,” I murmur, my mind tripping over everything I shouldn’t do. Everything I want to do. I move lower on the bed, past her tightly held-together knees. The view is even more spectacular. “Take off your panties.”

Her breath shudders out. She doesn’t move.

“You want me to help you?” I’d rather not. I don’t trust myself to touch her. Ripping the nightgown off her was enough.

“I want you to leave me alone,” she says, a little more breathlessly.

A trail of fire lights my blood. “I asked to be left alone too, remember? But nobody seems inclined to listen. Why should I listen to you?”

---