Page 33 of I Love to Hate You
“Yes,” he replies, the undaunted look in his eyes making me melt, but I try not to let it show.
“Why would I do that?” I ask.
“Because you want to,” he answers. “If I told you to touch yourself right now, you’d do it for two reasons. One, because you want to do it, and two, because you want to do it for me.”
I swallow so loud it echoes as warmth sparks to life between my legs and my face heats up. I don’t know how he keeps getting it right, but he’s reading me like a script, and I can’t help it if the effects are showing in my trembling hands. It feels like there’s a battle being waged between my mind and body, and my mind is losing. My body wants to react to everything he tells me, and it’s just waiting for instructions. Where did all of this come from? How is he capable of making me feel this way?
I clear my throat and sit up straight with my hands resting atop my thighs. “You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?”
“What’s more important is that I’m right. Aren’t I?”
I let out a long, loud sigh before answering, “No. You’re not.”
Kendrick flashes a smirk that darkens and disappears in an instant. “Oh? Okay. I want you to take your right hand off your thigh and move it over. Put it between your legs. I want to watch you play with yourself.”
My heart hammers in my chest as sweat trickles down my cheek, my jaw tight. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but my body desperately wants to obey him. Nobody else. Just him.
“I … I’m not doing that,” I say, quivering from the effort it takes just to fight my desires.
Kendrick, on the other hand, doesn’t move. He’s not shaking or struggling to remain calm. His eyes lock on me and stay there, waiting patiently for a conclusion he has already predicted. He looks at me like a man who has seen the future, so he’s unaffected by my lying mouth.
I hold out as long as I can, biting my lip as I try to concentrate on the ridiculousness of his demand. Who is he to tell me to touch myself? In the parking lot of an abandoned building, no less. He can’t, and I don’t have to do it. This is absurd. The only person who’s in control of me is me. I don’t have to follow the commands of anyone.
But Iwantto followhiscommands. I wanthimto control me. He makes me want to listen, and even after all the time I’ve been sitting beside him trying not to act on his words, he’s still looking at me, completely unfazed.
My trembling hands stop shaking as I exhale. I would say it’s against my will, but that’d be a lie. I do it willingly when I lose control of myself. In my head, I hand over the reins to Kendrick as my eyes stay fixed on his. My hand lifts off my thigh and slides between my legs.
Twenty-Three
~ MAYA~
My ears fill with the sound of the blood rushing in my body. It's a raging river that spreads heat through my veins more and more with each second, and I don't know if the temperature is rising in the car, or if it’s just me. Kendrick’s eyes stay focused on mine until the moment my hand slides between my thighs and stops on the spot where my pussy is centered beneath the fabric of my thin, gray pants. I’m not wearing leggings, but they’re not jeans either, and I’m suddenly concerned that the wetness I feel blooming can become visible if I press too hard, so I freeze with my hand hovering a half-inch above the fabric.
Kendrick eyes me carefully, like a guard watching a prisoner who has just been given a command, knowing there will be consequences if his demands aren’t met. I’m not worried that there actually will be consequences, but the look on his face tells me this isn’t an act he’s putting on. It’s not a character he read about and is now trying to emulate just to spice things up. This is who he truly is. I see it written on his face as clear as day, which makes it that much easier to allow myself to be swallowed by his presence. Knowing it’s not a front makes it hotter. It makes me wetter, which is why my hand is still hovering.
“Touch it,” Kendrick tells me, his eyes still on mine.
I swallow hard. He didn't ask me to touch myself, he’s telling me to, commanding me to, and half the cells in my body want to obey, while the other half want to resist. I’m torn east and west at the same time, and the end result is my immobility. I don't move. I just stare at him, my brain misfiring as sparks fly in my mind.
“Do it,” he says again, before leaning over and placing his hand on top of mine.
With my heart in my throat, he slowly pushes my hand downward until it connects with my pants. I think he’ll stop there, but he doesn't return to his seat. Kendrick presses down on my fingers and forces me to make circles on my pussy. It immediately feels like I’ve ascended to heaven, but I don't want to moan and let him know he’s doing everything right. I swallow it and press my head against the back of the headrest with closed eyes, trying to hold it all in, but Kendrick doesn't stop. He keeps going until moans build up inside my body like water taking up every inch of a container before exploding out in all directions.
“Fuck,” I exclaim as my eyes shoot open. I don't mean for it to come out so loud, but in the silence of the car, it feels like I just yelled in Kendrick’s face. He’s not fazed by it, though. In fact, he keeps going, pressing his hand on top of mine while I masturbate through my pants, and before I know it, it’s not Kendrick making me rub myself anymore. I’ve taken over, and his hand is just a passenger.
“That's it,” he whispers as he finally leans back and settles in his seat again.
Just like he said he wanted to do, Kendrick leans against his door and watches me pleasure myself. I continue to rub my clit, losing myself in the moment when my eyes close and eroticism takes over. It feels like I’m alone as I keep going, slowly grinding myself against my own hand and building up pressure in all the right places. If I keep this up, I’ll go too far and plummet into an abyss of pleasure that I won’t be able to climb out of until it’s all over, but I don't want to take it that far. I want Kendrick.
When I open my eyes, I find him still leaning against the door, biting his lip as his eyes bounce from my soaked pants to my eyes. It’s not that he just wants to watch my fingers rub my pussy, he clearly wants to enjoy the look of pleasure on my face as well. He takes in the entire image from head to toe, without saying a word or losing control of himself. He lets the tension build without reaching for his cock, which I can tell from a single glance is hard and … large. I’m desperate to see it without the cover of his pants over it, but I don't ask him to show me. Instead, I lock eyes with him and continue to rub myself.
“Well, you’ve gotten me to take it this far,” I say in a whisper. “What's next?”
Kendrick licks his lips. “Take your pants off.”
I bite my bottom lip before asking, “What if I don't?”
“Then I’ll make you,” he answers in a tone so deep I almost feel intimidated by it.
