Page 49 of The Tangle of Awful

I have no doubt in my mind she’d let me peel off her panties, wrap her sexy legs around me, and fuck her into next week. I could come inside her, consequences be damned, and she’d let me.

The control I have over her is exhilarating. I’d assumed, at one time, she was the one wielding her spread legs like a weapon against all the men in her life, but it’s not that way at all.

She needs the sex.

To feel wanted and desired.

It’s more than an orgasm of her body, but an orgasm of her self-esteem.

It’s empowering to know I can use her body to my advantage. To play her like a fucking violin, rubbing over her strings in just the right way to make her moan music just for me.

The problem is, though, I’m beyond weaponizing her body against herself. I’m enjoying it too much. Not because I love to torment her, but because I like the way she tastes and feels and smells.

“What if Daddy comes in and finds us like this?” I murmur against her lips, unable to fight a grin when her pussy clenches around my fingers. “Would you be able to stop?”

She tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to her mouth. “Shut up.”

“You’d beg him to join because you’re a whore for older men, aren’t you?”

“Spencer, shut up,” she pants, no venom in her tone. “I’m close. Oh, God, I’m close.”

I want to taunt her more, to refocus on my purpose with her, but once again, I lose myself in the moment. Her mouth is sweet and supple, her lips growing more swollen from our kiss with each passing second. I can tell when she’s actually on the edge of bliss because her whole body tenses. Grabbing onto her thigh, I hike her leg as high as it’ll go and plunge my fingers deep, making sure to massage the fuck out of her G-spot. It only takes a few seconds before she explodes.

“That’s it, leech,” I croon against her mouth, “make your pussy clench around my fingers like you’re desperate for the cum out of my cock.”

To my surprise, she obeys, her body squeezing tightly around my fingers even as she trembles and shakes. The vision of me inside her, filling her up, is too much to bear. If I don’t get the fuck out of here, I’m going to come too like a goddamn chump. Then, she’ll know she has some power over me.

That can’t happen.

I don’t wait for her to completely come down from her high before slipping my fingers out of her and pulling away. Not so gently, I release her leg. It drops heavily and she wobbles to regain her balance.

She’s wrecked.

Positively wrecked.

Hair disheveled. Lips red and swollen. Skirt hitched up her thighs, revealing her askew panties.

I love her all messy and out of control.

A smile is forming, but I shut it down as soon as my lips begin twitching. Carefully, I shutter my expression and regard her with an impassive one.

“Should I tell Dad or should you?”

Her face flashes red hot, a mixture of shame, hurt, and embarrassment. Good. It’s a reminder—to both of us—of what this thing is between us.

A game.

Nothing more than a game.

One I’m winning, too.

“You really should clean yourself up,” I say as I push past her. “You’re a mess, leech.”

A hot, beautiful, sinfully sexy mess.

“Fuck you,” she spits out, this time the venom burning like acid.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

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