Page 46 of Was I Ever Here

My heart is practically exploding behind my ribcage, the lust so thick in the air I can practically taste it. If this was anyone else I’d be laughing in their face. But his words hang heavy between us and I can tell he knows I’m resisting, but he can also tell that I’ll eventually concede.

I roll my eyes and let out a long huff.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” I tell him while standing up and doing exactly what he ordered. With my black thong now in my hand, I brandish it in the air.

“There, happy now?”

“Very,” he drawls. “Now hand them to me.”

My throat goes dry as he just sits there. Waiting. The annoyed act I was holding onto for dear life evaporates with every step I take towards him. I’ve suddenly fallen very serious by the time I step into the space between his spread legs.

Unhurriedly, he reaches over and takes them out of my hand, promptly shoving them into his pocket. I waiver in place while I watch the same hand now glide up my parted legs, stopping in the middle of my thigh as I hold in a small frustrated whimper. He leans over, giving it a small squeeze and then a lingering kiss while slowly looking up at me with his hooded eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling away and leaning back.

“Now,” he says darkly. “You’re going to walk back over there, hike up your skirt, sit down and open your legs for me.”

I hold his stare for another tense moment, my thighs growing slicker while his command still rings in my ears. Finally, I turn around and take one shaky step after the next back to the opposite couch. My mind goes absolutely blank when I finally sit back down, facing him. Skirt hiked up to my hips.

Just like he ordered.

I take a second to steady my breath before looking back at Byzantine. His eyes—they burn into my fucking soul.

They’re the only tell he’s even remotely affected by the sight. I swear I see a flash of pain travel across his face but he quickly blinks it away. I don’t think I would be so obliging if he didn’t look equally untethered.

Finally, I slowly open my legs and I can practically see his pupils dilate with every inch I offer him. My body burns hot, now desperate for his touch, my legs open wide—waiting.

Then, he smiles. Predatory. Lethal.

“Good girl.”

With the sound of his praise, my eyes close, his words reaching a part of me that has been dormant until now. His voice, the only sound able to coax it to life.

“Now, my little sun,” his voice practically a whisper, deep and low. “You're going to place your heels on the couch, spread wide and show me how wet you are.”

My body quivers with want, yearning to follow his filthy words down the abyss we’re tumbling into. I do as he says and rest my feet on either side of me, my legs falling even wider open. I reach down and glide my fingers through my arousal, and then raise them up to show him, as they glisten with the evidence of my desire.

“Fuck,” Byzantine rasps out, heat branded on every single letter of the word.

I can tell by the twitch of his hand and the bulge in his jeans that he's as turned on as I am, but he doesn’t move an inch. His eyes steadfast and wanting. “Now,” he growls, his voice more urgent than before. “Take those same fingers and spread yourself open for me.”

A breathy moan slips out as I follow his orders blindly, parting my pussy open for him with trembling fingers. The lust builds and builds inside of me and I resist the need to let my head fall backwards onto the couch and close my eyes shut with the pleasure I’m currently experiencing.

“That’s it, little sun,” he says through clenched teeth. “Let me see what’s mine.” I barely recognize Byzantine’s voice, his eyes near feral as they lock with mine and I shudder under his stare.

The tension is coiling deep inside of me, my legs shaking with both need and desperation, the urge to touch myself and release some of the ache near excruciating. Instead, I steady my gaze and look at him from beneath my lashes, my chest rising up and down, waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

“Fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers while I watch,” he finally says darkly.

I exhale with the sheer relief of now being allowed to touch myself more fully. My hips hitch as I bite my bottom lip and start pumping my fingers in and out.

“That’s my good girl…just like that.”

“Oh my god, Byzantine…”

My eyes fall shut, lost in the pleasure of his voice and my touch. But when I hear the rustle of his belt buckle and the glide of his zipper, I snap them back open, my mouth salivating at the sight.

His hand is firmly on his hard length, giving himself long languid strokes as he watches me come apart. My movements falter for just a second when I notice the two daggers tattooed along either side of his cock. I’m too far away to study them closely, but it doesn’t prevent me from being captivated.

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