Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I looked into my own eyes, and I saw there a new dimension to the waywardness Christian had discovered in me: with a new blush I realized I liked the sight of the alpha male dominating the no-longer-virgin girl with his hands and his hard manhood. I liked it so much that I had to look down again, because of the renewal of heat it had brought between my thighs.
“No,” Christian said. “Look at yourself, like you were doing, Rebel.”
The blush got much more intense. I felt my brow working, creasing, showing my keeper exactly how precisely he had understood the expression in my eyes. I raised my eyes again, to meet his gaze in the picture window.
He had a warm smile on his gorgeous face. The sob that burst from my throat, from the wave of helpless affection that rose in my chest, took me by surprise. Christian kept smiling, and, gently, he started to disconnect our bodies: he let go of my shoulder, and then my wrists. I could feel how he had grown softer inside me and I had another strange moment of pride; this forceful, dominant man had spent his strength inside my body.
The rebel—the defiant girl Christian had given that unexpected new nickname to—seemed to resurface. I even experienced a moment of something like scorn. Hadn’t I just won, in a certain sense?
Sure, he’ll get hard again… but not for a while, right?
But the tenderness in him seemed to coexist with his roughness more closely than I had guessed. Even as he let me go, and I felt his cock slip out of my pussy, he stooped a little, and I watched him move those strong hands again, forward and downward. I let out a little cry as he put them under me, the right beneath my ribcage and the left at my throat, and lifted me up to hold me against him.
His lips found a place behind my ear that sent a shudder through my whole body. I gave a little gasp as I realized that his semi-rigid cock had just started to harden again, up against the bare skin of my back. Christian’s right hand went down between my legs, and took a possessive hold there, fondling and probing.
I whimpered, because I knew exactly what he meant to do: my feeling of triumph and scorn evaporated into a new wave of helpless need, since my sponsor had reminded me that I belonged to him, down there. He had disciplined me in the same place he had fucked me, and he meant to do it whenever he decided I needed that terrible reminder of his authority.
When Christian spoke, though, his warm voice seemed to come from the gentle part of him, despite the dirty words he murmured into my ear.
“I’m going to need to fuck this tight little pussy again very soon, Rebel,” he told me. “You’re just too hot to resist.”
His left hand moved down from my neck to my chest, and I felt him reach into my bra and take my right nipple between his fingers. I bit my lip and let out a little submissive noise, as despite the soreness between my thighs my hips tried to ride Christian’s knowing hand.
“Apartment, close blackout curtain,” I heard him say. The motor whirred and the heavy shade began to come down. The thought that my new sponsor wanted more privacy, more intimacy brought a wave of affection, but also a thrill of anxiety: what did he mean to do to me now? How did he mean to use me, out of any voyeur’s view?
Christian didn’t let me wonder for more than a second.
“We’ll clean up a little,” he told me. “Then I’m going to teach you to suck my cock.”
He turned me all the way, so that my nakedness against his fully clothed body seemed much more acute. He held my ass in his right hand and he put his left on the back of my head, twining his fingers in my disheveled hair. He bent his head, tilted mine, and then he kissed me long and deeply. He forced my lips open with his own and he seemed to use my mouth with his tongue the same way he had used my pussy with his cock, as if he meant to make sure I understood he would thrust himself into this less private hole the very same way.
To my surprise, and very evidently his as well, I pulled away.
“No,” I said, hardly thinking about what I said. “No… I want you to go.”
I didn’t know why exactly the kiss provoked the rebellion I suddenly felt rise up in my chest. Something about the matter-of-fact, transactional nature of his last words, though… something about how he had paired them with a gesture—the kiss—that culture, notably including romantic movies like Moonglider, celebrated as the zenith of romance, tipped me over an edge I hadn’t even realized might lurk there in my psyche.