Page 46 of A Smile Full of Lies
I wrapped my fist tighter around my cock and pulled, slow and deliberate, holding myself to the same unbearable edge she was trapped on. Her hesitation was my torment. Her need was my fuel.
“Touch yourself, princess,” I muttered, my voice a rasp, guttural with restraint. “Do it for me.”
She couldn’t hear me, but it didn’t matter. She was going to do it, I just fucking knew it.
Her fingers brushed over the thin cotton between her legs, and the sound she made — half gasp, half moan — shot through my headphones like a live current. I hissed and stroked myself harder, syncing to her rhythm.
Every screen, every sound, every shaky breath proved it — Ros thought she was teetering on some forbidden edge. She thought she was making a choice. But she wasn’t.
She was giving in to me.
She finally peeled the boy shorts down, wriggling out of them with a little twist of her hips that had me grinding into my fist. She tossed them aside, leaving herself bare on top of the comforter, nothing between me and the sight of her neat little landing strip and the pretty pink pussy glistening beneath it.
“Fuck,” I groaned, stroking myself harder, my hips jerking into my hand. The wide shot had me starving, but the laptop feed — the close-up of her face — nearly destroyed me.
She grabbed my hoodie from the bed and buried her face in it, inhaling like a fiend. The sound of her breath caught in the mic, shaky and desperate. She was high on me, and she didn’t even know it.
Her fingers slid between her thighs, and I nearly came right then. The slick sound carried through the headphones, obscene and perfect, circling her swollen clit, spreading wet heat everywhere. My cock twitched in my hand, pulse hammering at the base.
She thought she was alone. She thought I was across the hall, asleep in my bed, oblivious. She thought she was safe behind a locked door, free to ruin herself on her fingers while she pretended she wasn’t imagining me catching her.
But I was here. I was watching. I was listening.
And the sickest, sweetest part of it?
She’d sent her confession straight to me. She’d beggedmefor permission. And now she was getting herself off with her face buried in my hoodie, while I watched her pretty pussy twitch and clench around her own fingers — when what she really wanted was me.
Her fingers circled her clit, slow at first, testing herself. My hand matched her pace, stroking from base to tip, squeezing hard enough to make my breath catch. Every little gasp of hers hit my ears like a detonator.
“That’s it, princess,” I murmured, teeth clenched, jaw so tight it hurt. “Just like that. Nice and slow, let it build for me.”
She dragged two fingers lower and slipped them inside, her hips arching, thighs falling open wider. The slick stretch echoed inthe mic — wet, obscene, mine. My fist stuttered on my cock, then fell into rhythm with her, every pump synced to the push of her fingers inside herself.
I leaned closer to the monitors, whispering filth she couldn’t hear but I knew she’d feel.Knewit.
“You don’t even realize, do you? Every breath you take with your face buried in my hoodie, every sound you make — belongs to me. You’re already mine, sweetheart. Always have been.”
She gasped, back bowing, hoodie clutched tight to her face like it could ground her. And I lost it, hips snapping into my fist in time with her frantic thrusts.
“God, I should storm in there right now, pin those pretty wrists down, shove my cock where your fingers are, and fuck you until you scream my name. You want that, don’t you? Youneedit.”
Her whimper hit the mic, trembling, broken. My cock jerked hard in my hand, precum slicking my fist.
I was fucking feral, syncing to her rhythm, whispering every filthy thing I’d sworn I’d never let her hear… not until she was irrevocably mine.
Her thighs trembled, toes curling against the comforter. I watched her face in the laptop feed, saw the instant she lost control — the way her mouth fell open, the way her eyes fluttered back, the way she choked on my name without even realizing it.
That was it. My princess falling apart to me, under me, because of me — even when she thought I wasn’t there.
She came with a sharp cry muffled in my hoodie, fingers working herself in fast, desperate pulses. I stroked harder, rougher, matching the frantic roll of her hips until the coil inside mesnapped. Cum spilled hot over my fist as I jerked through it, my own groan drowned out by her moans in my ears. The perfect fucking symphony of Ros undone on one side of the hall, and me wrecked on the other.
And then —buzz.
My phone vibrated against the desk. I barely had time to catch my breath before I saw it: a like notification from @MidnightRose.
Not GraveyardGirl93. Not the confessional mask she wore with me on the forum. No — this was herrealself, the account she let the world see. She’d just dropped a heart on the very Nox Obscura video she’d come to.
Anotherbuzz. She’d followed.
