Page 43 of Wilt

I hate those, too. They don’t give a shit about my situation, only the pleasure it knows it’ll get if I give in. For some unknown reason, this horrible, beautiful man is the one who can give me that.

Sweet, glorious pleasure.

“Let me go.”

“Are you going to cry, Rose?”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

He pries my thighs a little wider. “No. The only tears I want from you are from when you come, when I spank you and you moan and buck and offer yourself to me. Then again, I’m not fussed. Tears aren’t going to stop this. Fighting me isn’t, either.”

“I—”

“You asked what will make me happy? Your obedience. Now.” There’s a deadly silkiness to his words, and I stare at the fire burning in the depths of his eyes, that fire I crave.

I stop fighting and he lets me go. Nikolai stares at me with the kind of intensity that should unnerve me, but it doesn’t. No, it turns me on, making breathing difficult in a different way. My heart begins to thump hard and erratic, and I start to keen under his gaze.

Finally, I spread my legs for him.

“Wider.”

I listen to his command.

“More, Rose. I want to see everything.”

I don’t hesitate, my breath coming in short little puffs, and his cock beneath the confines of his jeans grows. He’s so big. I pull my gaze away, no matter how much I want to look, how nervous it makes me, how much it turns me on.

“Good, sweet Rose,” he coos, and he moves a hand thought the air, between my thighs. “Your cunt is so beautiful.”

Heat streaks through me; my nerves leap, and desire burns my veins. I’m not sure what to say or do, so I widen my legs even further. If my life’s going to depend on whatever this is, I’m making damn sure this is worthwhile for him. That wild fight has morphed, bled into something darker, hotter, hinting at pleasure. He likes to look at me, so I’ll let him. If that revs my motor, makes my clit throb, then it’s a bonus, one I’ll gladly take.

“Now, touch yourself.”

The word no sits on my tongue, but I swallow it down. I’ve never in my life masturbated in front of someone. There are a lot of nevers in this arena of my life, and this man is slowly shredding them, collecting the remnants and making them all his. With shaking hands, I do as he asks, staring at him as I slide my fingers down over my belly. I reach my clit and slowly stroke it, before I sink a finger into my wet pussy, watching as his eyes flare.

Nikolai doesn’t say a word. Instead, he sucks in a breath of his own and moves, grabbing the tails of his shirt I’m wearing and ripping it apart, sending buttons flying through the air. It hangs open limply, and my breath catches, a cool rush of air whispering over my nipples as they harden. I don’t know if it’s the exposure or to him that make them ache, but I suspect it’s the latter. He does things to me that make me burn with need. Suddenly, I realize I’m still working my finger inside my channel, rubbing my clit with my thumb.

I stop looking at him, closing me eyes as my head falls back, the pleasure starting to undulate through me in radiating waves. I’m not close to finishing, but I’m more than turned on. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever done to myself, and it’s all for him.

I bite my lip as I push another finger inside, half falling back on the bed, trying to reach all the right and wrong places, gasping and moaning at each zap of pleasure.

“Look at me, Rose.” His voice is loaded, beguiling, and I listen.

The air cracks and fizzes, my pleasure leaping at his voice. I want… no, Ineedhis hands on me. As I slide my fingers into my pussy and stroke my clit, riding the little shimmers of delight and stoking the pleasure higher, I want his hands touching me, his fingers inside me.

I want his mouth on me, on mine, on my flesh, my pussy. I want his cock. The thought sends a shaft of bright need rocketing through me.

Our gazes are locked before his hungry, greedy gaze drops, and he watches my hand. It’s single minded. It’s erotic. I’m so turned on, I can barely think, let alone breathe. The air is alive with my moans and pants, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I won’t look away. Not because I’m scared, or because it’ll please him, but because I have to. The urge to drive him out of control, to force him to put his hands back on me, is threatening to take over.

My pulse is jackhammering and everything is feverish, and still the sweet, hot pleasure builds.

I can’t get anything but moans out. I’m so close. Somehow, I’ve jumped the curve from feeling good with an orgasm far away to being so close to finishing, it’s like a tsunami, rushing at me all at once. With my free hand, I reach for him, a need instead of a want.

It’s life.

It’s air.

I reach out and set my hand on his crotch. His cock is thick and hard, twitching at my touch.

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