She casts me a quizzical look, and I shake my head no.
"You're not allowed to touch me, unless I command you."
Her eyebrows furrow into a suspicious grimace.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
She speaks the words, but her reply is laced with questions.
It almost angers me that she's not accustomed to a man who can wait, a man who doesn't devour her body at the first opportunity. The way she looks at me proves she's never known patience, and she's never practiced restraint herself.
That’s all about to change. There will be a lot of firsts for her today.
She stands in place when I let go of her wrists and put some distance between us by taking two steps back. I cross my arms in front of my chest and jut my chin out.
"Strip."
Little Miss Porter flinches as if I'd just hit her, and her eyes widen in shock. She awkwardly steps from one foot to the other, shifting and hugging herself before she turns around to face the panoramic windows behind her. The sun is setting later these days, so it's still a bit light out, but darkness is not far off. I haven't turned on any lights since we got here; the dim lighting provides a far better view of the cityscape below us and less chance of anyone seeing inside my living room. My penthouse is so far up that it’s unlikely anyone would see us even if they were to lift their eyes and seek us out, but it’s still obvious that she is worried about it.
So cute.
I repeat my command. "Strip."
She turns back to face me, and even with the gloomy lighting, I can see her cheeks flushed with heat. It’s followed by a flash of insecurity, and then she quickly recovers and the furious frown returns.
"I'm not going to say it again," I tell her impatiently, unimpressed by her attitude. "Do you want me to encourage you with a little spanking? Because that can very well be arranged."
She inhales a deep breath and is about to say something, when I cut her off again.
"You won't like it, though. And I can't promise to keep your clothes in one piece.” I pause to make sure she’s paying attention to my next works. "Or you."
Her eyes narrow again. She's seething with rage.
Hungry rage. Needy rage.
I don't even have to tell her to keep her eyes on me when she finally begins peeling away her clothes. She unbuttons her blouse first, her gaze locked on mine the entire time. Her eyes don't move away when she lets the blouse slide down over her shoulders, and not when she unbuttons her jeans and steps out of them, when she kicks off her shoes, or even when she reaches around to unhook her bra. She's wearing a cute little white bra and panty set decorated with lace, but it’s of mediocre quality, at best. She'll have to get used to wearing higher quality lingerie once she's living with me.
My eyes don't evade her unwavering gaze when the bra drops to the floor, exposing her perky breasts in front of me, as hard as it is. It would feel like a defeat, and I'll have plenty of opportunity to savor them in the future.
This is when she stops. She’s standing before me, wearing nothing but her lacy panties and breathing erratically, though she’s trying to appear calm. I cast her an impatient look, nodding toward her.
"You're not done."
Instead of following my command, she breaks another rule by raising her voice.
"You remove the rest… Sir."
Chapter Twelve
Ann
I knew he'd be mad, but I didn't expect him to react this swiftly and with such unrelenting force. He closes in on me in one wide step, and for a moment, I fear he might actually hit me.
But that's not what he has in mind. Instead, he reaches for my wrists and yanks my hands above my head, securing them in place with one hand while he uses the other to grab hold of the hem of my panties. I mewl in protest when he rips them off of my body in one brute motion.
I instinctively cross my legs, futilely attempting to hide my nakedness; his response is an amused chuckle. He roughly shoves his hand between my thighs and pinches me, forcing me to spread my legs apart and expose my bare center to his touch.
A touch that doesn't come. He rests his hand at the inside of my thigh, only inches away from my heated core, but he doesn’t show any pressing intention of touching my most intimate place.
I lift my eyes up to his and am met with a sinister expression.
Is he trying to intimidate me? If so, he's not succeeding. I knew I wasn't supposed to speak, but I did it anyway. He may think that he's the one holding all the power here, but he really isn't. I created this situation, and as far as I can tell, he doesn't exactly know how to handle it.
"What did I tell you?" he demands, narrowing his eyes in a hollow attempt to scare me.
"Not to speak unless you tell me to."
"And what did you just do?"
"I told you to take off my panties," I reply. "And you did."
The indifferent expression on my face when I answer him makes his blood boil. His fist tightens around my wrists as he stretches my arms even higher, forcing me to rise up onto my tiptoes. I almost lose my balance, but manage to catch myself just in time, never breaking eye contact in the process.
"Being a smartass, are we?" he hisses through gritted teeth. "You're going to regret this, little girl."
I cast him a smirk. "I doubt it."
A stunned gasp escapes my lips when he moves his hand upward, parting my lips and harshly invading my core with not one, but two fingers, at once. It's not pain but surprise that causes me to shriek out when he stretches me with his fingers, lewdly drilling inside me. A sharp sensation travels through my insides when he bends his fingers inside of me, almost instantly finding the spot that I always thought was a myth. He keeps his fingers bent and pushes against my mound from the inside, causing me to jerk in a mixture of agony and pleasure.
What the hell is he doing to me?
It feels blindingly intense and dizzying at the same time. My vision blurs for a moment, and I can't help but let out a hearty groan. He begins palpating his fingers inside of me, shoving in and out ever so slightly, but never losing the pressure on that particular spot.
My eyes roll back into my head, and I don't even care. He's so invasive, so brutal, so fucking brazen, but it feels so fucking good. It's as if a switch has been turned on inside of me, a switch that forces the brain to move aside and make room for nothing but satisfying its carnal lust.
"So fucking predictable," he hisses, certain of victory. "Drooling all over my hand like a needy slut. Do you enjoy disobeying me this much?"
I want to glare at him through my lust-filled stupor, but he moves his fingers in a way that robs me of my ability to do anything. I've never been finger-fucked like this. In truth, the boys I've slept with barely even touched me there.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any more intense, he starts stroking his thumb over my swollen clit. I've been in a latent state of arousal for a while now, spurred on by his words, his looks, his touch. He circles his thumb around my nub, using my own juices as lubrication. I'm torn between shame and arousal, and while my mind warns me not to give in to him, I can't help but grind on his fingers, egging him on and begging for more.