Page 20 of Text Me, Take Me

She keeps rubbing me, her hand moving faster, stroking the clear outline of my aching cock through my shorts. When she pulls my pants down and my cock springs up, her eyes get that wide, irresistible look.

Her shock isn’t fake. “You’re huge,” she moans. “Fuck, Dom.”

She wraps her hand around my naked cock, stroking from my pre-come-slick tip to my base, spreading the wetness all over my length. I almost roar as she strokes, owning this moment, owningme.

I thought I was in charge. I was wrong.

“Wuh…”

Wait, but it’s like I can’t produce the word. I let out a shuddering groan instead.

She moves her hand faster, spreading the precome with a slick sound.

“I want what you said in your text.” She breathes heavily. “But not here – not as your prisoner…”

There it is, a clear sign this is a trick.

“Let’s go to your room.” She leans down, then nervously kisses the base of my cock, sending a shockwave through my entire being. “Not here, baby. Somewhere I feel like your equal… somewhere I can moan and scream and not upset Meatball.” She kisses me again, stroking all the while. “Let’s go…”

Her cat whines, walking into the room. She lets go of my cock and turns to face him.

This is my only chance to break the spell. I stand and quickly pull up my pants, trembling with the effort. Part of me wants to ignore the voice of reason. To take her upstairs and let her suck my dick with her perfectly kissable lips, then slip into her soaked pussy, fuck her like she deserves, then let her try to escape.

She stands, facing me. “Why are you getting dressed? I want to see you again. Don’t make me beg.”

“Stop,” I growl. “I know what you’re doing. I’ve let it go too far already.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Trying to get upstairs. Trying to escape. I can’t blame you… but I won’t take advantage of you.”

She bites her lip again, approaches me, then presses down on my shorts. “What if I want you to take advantage? What if I need it?”

I grip her shoulders, push her away. And that’s when I snap and lose it for a second. I turn her so she’s facing the wall, pushing my manhood against her round ass. She moans and shifts against me. It’s real, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an ulterior motive. She moves her plump, luscious ass up and down.

“I love how thick you are,” I growl. “So curvy – so full.”

I grip her hips and pull her firmly against me.

“I could fuck you right here and you’d cream all over my dick. You’d tell yourself it’s part of your plan, but that’d be a damn lie. You’d come all over my cock and I’d leave you in a shivering, sweaty, sopping heap, shaking for hours as you think about the multiple orgasms.”

She looks at me over her shoulder. “Take me upstairs.”

“No.”

I stumble away from her, my head a mess, my voice too loud.

“I had mafia princesses throwing themselves at me for years. Then it was every woman who wanted a story about bagging a SEAL. Now I’m a billionaire, and the cycle continues. I’ve never given into that fakeness. I’ve never been willfully blind like so many men I know.I will not start now.”

My bad knee aches, my back twinging, as if mentioning my SEAL career is enough to awaken the old injuries.

She gasps. “The mafia? A SEAL? Is that who you are – a mob guy turned wannabe good guy turned billionaire?”

“I’m a man trying to do the right thing. Your plan is obvious: to lure me upstairs and seduce me. I’m not going to fall for it.”

She gestures at my crotch, my manhood still hard. “Are you sure about that?”

“Is this you admitting it’s a trick?”

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