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Her eyes shadow at the reminder, but she nods. “But then he scared the living shit out of me when I got into his car.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten into his car if you truly thought he would harm you,” I press.

She shrugs. “I’m not ashamed to admit I wasn’t exactly thinking straight that night.”

I let go of her chin and plant my hands on either side of her head. Her eyes widen as she stares up at me with that touch of helplessness that makes me step from the edge of the cliff into the abyss.

Because what Keely doesn’t know is that I love power. A little too much, my mother once said. A sentiment wholeheartedly endorsed later in life by Cassie. I never defended the statement. I didn’t see the point. Just as I never pointed out that my love of power was what kept them draped in diamonds and private jet spa trips to Switzerland. The point was redundant and beneath me.

“You’re not going to leave. We both know that. So unzip my pants, take my cock out and stroke it. Or you won’t get fucked.”

15

KEELY

I want to refuse.

I ought to.

Something’s happening here that I can’t quite wrap my head around. It started the moment the door closed behind me. Almost as if the man in front of me has become another person. The ruthless edge I sense in him is heightened, even though he hasn’t done or said anything to make me think I’m in danger.

But I sense something. Something that should make me refuse his command.

Yet I know I’m not going to.

I want to fuck him harder, longer, deeper, more desperately than I’ve ever wanted to fuck another man. The thought of being denied literally makes my heart ache, and I can’t breathe around the pressure in my chest.

So I reach for his belt and release it. Then my trembling fingers unsnap the single button on his jeans. His ominously thick cock jerks against my knuckles when my fingers brush it. I catch a strangled moan and a wash of hot breath against my neck.

My breasts tingle madly and my nipples are so painfully tight, I want to beg him to touch them, pinch them, alleviate the torture. But the words choke off in my throat. Or maybe I sense that voicing them would mean breaking some rule I don’t even know about.

That’s how mind-fucked this whole situation is. I firmly believe everything I said a minute ago about not wanting to be a sex toy or a pet, and yet I have every intention of groveling at his feet like some pathetic, infatuated fool.

I’m almost afraid to speak, to ask him to touch me the way my body is screaming to be touched. I make my near-useless fingers grip his zipper and slowly lower it. When my hand connects with hot, naked, eager cock on the way down and I realize he’s commando, I gasp.

Urgently, I grasp him with my right hand and push down his pants with my left. His insane girth makes me moan and my head automatically starts to drop in my eagerness to see him, to see the cock my fingers can barely circle.

His finger beneath my chin stops me.

“No. You can’t look at me yet. Stroke me and keep your eyes on mine.”

I don’t argue. The command doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. And also because my left hand has just cupped his heavy balls and the look on his face has me completely enthralled.

I stroke him, long and slow, flicking my wrist just a tiny bit when I get to his head.

His lips part and a strangled groan falls from them. “Yes. That’s it,” he mutters thickly.

There’s something raw and electrifying about him forcing me to witness his pleasure. The connection is a little too much, like staring into the sun for a moment too long. I’m blinded by the emotions charging through me, but I can’t look away.

His head descends. His mouth stops a whisper from mine, and his breath washes over my lips. “Faster,” he commands, his eyes still locked squarely on mine.

I open my mouth again to tell him to quit with the orders, but I stop at the last moment. Again, it doesn’t seem like a big deal. I obey and he groans, rewarding me with an even thicker erection. My pussy clenches and unclenches in deprived desperation, and my whole body shudders through the storm rocking my foundations.

My next stroke upward is greeted with a drop of pre-cum, and my mouth waters with the ravaging need to taste him, but the pressure on my chin prevents me from looking, never mind tasting. My tongue slides over my lower lip and my breath shudders out when I squeeze his balls and his pupils dilate.

“Open your mouth.”

I open my mouth. His thumb replaces his forefinger beneath my chin, and his middle finger slides into my mouth. I don’t wait for his command to suck it deep and hard.