Page 20 of Tell Me What You Want

“Open your legs,” he whispers in my ear.

I do as he says while he continues to caress my butt with one hand and tangles the other in my hair to get a good hold of me.

“Yes, sweetness, just like that.”

And then, with one forceful propulsion, he penetrates me and tugs sharply on my hair. I like it! I hold on to the cabinets and feel my legs weaken. He grabs me by the waist confidently as he hammers his cock in and out of me—again and again and again—with an incredible intensity.

In this position, and shoeless, I feel very small beside him. Suddenly, the onslaught stops, and one of his hands leaves my hips and slides down to my vagina. His fingers find my slit and search for my clitoris. I gasp.

“Someday,” he says, “I’m going to fuck you while I jerk you off with my gift.”

I want him to do that right now. I don’t want him to go. I want ... I want ...

His advances are getting slower and slower. I move quite anxiously, trying to get him to up the rhythm. He can tell what I’m doing.

“More?” he asks, his voice raspy in my ear.

“Yes ... yes ... I want more.”

Then there’s a new onslaught, and it’s to the deepest part of me. I’m panting with glee.

“What else do you want?” he says, gritting his teeth.

“More.”

I scream when he penetrates me again.

“Speak clearly, sweetness. You’re wet and hot. What do you want?”

My mind works quickly. I know what I want.

“I want you to fuck me as hard as you can,” I say without giving a damn what he thinks of me. “I want ...”

A cry escapes my lips when I feel what my words do to him. I can hear him panting too. He is forceful and fathomless, and I’m bending, ready for more and more, until I reach my climax. Seconds later, he explodes too and lets out a cry of surrender as he pushes inside me one more time. Satisfied and exhausted, I lean heavily on the cabinets. I feel him resting against my back, and that comforts me.

In a minute, I straighten up, take a long breath, and try to get some air. This time, I’m the one who goes straight to the shower, where I enjoy how the water washes down my body in privacy.

I take longer than usual. I just hope he’s gone when I get out. But when I leave the bathroom, I see him sitting nonchalantly on my bed, a glass of champagne in his hand.

I just stare at him. He’s about to say something, when I raise my hand to stop him.

“I’m pissed. And when I’m pissed, it’s best if you don’t talk to me. So if you don’t want the Cruella de Vil in me to come out, grab your things and get out of my apartment.”

He takes my hand.

“Let go of me.”

“No.” He yanks me down between his legs. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you just going to answer in monosyllables?”

I nuke him with my look.

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