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“My—” I pin her with a hard, unrelenting look, and she deflates.

With her cheeks red from humiliation, she takes the hem in both hands and pulls the gown over her head, leaving her in nothing but white panties. My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip, because what I just said was bullshit.Allguys are into tits. Lex. Wick. Me…

Especially ones like Rosi’s. They’re full teardrops, more than a handful, the valley between them an invitation to slide a cock between and fuck relentlessly.

I shift, the erection that’s been pressing against my inner thigh now twice the size as when she stepped through the door. The desk chair squeaks under my movement.

“Fuck, your areolas are huge.” I sprawl back, reaching up to lazily hook an arm over the chair’s back. “Does that make them more sensitive?”

“I—”

Before she can respond, I command, “Touch them.”

She frowns, almost confused. “You want me to…” She cups them underneath and pushes them up. “Like this?”

My forehead creases, and something slowly dawns on me. “You’ve never done this before, have you? Touched yourself?”

“Yes.” Her shoulders draw in, pulling her tits together. “Of course, I have.”

It’s a lie, and she squirms against it, skin turning the color of her hair. That, along with the music in the background, spurs me on. “No, you haven’t. The little virgin Duchess-wannabe? You were a prude from day one. I bet you don’t even know how to make yourself feel good. You need a man to do it for you, don’t you?”

Her jaw tightens. “No, I don’t.”

I jerk my chin up. “Oh yeah? Then show me how you get yourself off.”

I see the spitfire then, the way her eyes light up in reaction to my challenge. I heard about how she clocked that girl at the party. I remember the talks we had on the dating app before she clammed up and got shy. This girl grew up around the Bruins. No, she’s not weak.

She’s just innocent.

“Your nipples,” I tell her, “touch them.” Slowly, she draws her thumbs over the soft swell of her breasts and rolls them over the stiff peaks. Then, she swallows.

Fuck yes, she likes it.

“Did that make you wet?” I look down at her legs, clamped together. “Show me.”

Her knees inch apart, and I peer between them. I felt this girl when she gave Wicker head. She was soaked. But right now, those panties are dry. That won’t do.

“Even if I didn’t jack off before I went to prison, that would’ve changed the minute I got inside.” I run my hand over the outside of my sweats, down my thickening cock, pushing against the desire. I went almost two years without sex, but after having her sit on my dick for two hours, it’s suddenly all I can think about. Something about finally bringing that fantasy to life…shit. I feel like I’m turning into Wick. It’s all I want to do, be in her balls deep, round-the-clock.

Casually, I go on, “It’s not a surprise really—a bunch of bored heathens, all locked up with no pussy? You learn the system quickly. When to do it. Who to hide it from. How often you can get away with it.” I cup my balls, trying to suppress the twitch. “Some guys are just fucking wide open about it. Vengeful, especially with the CO’s. They’ll just stand in their cell, staring straight into an officer’s eyes, and rub one out. They call it gunning.” I lift my chin. “Pinch them.”

Her fingers come down on her nipple, squeezing hard. She lets out a gasp, and that red heat spreads down her neck.

“Most guys like to do it in the shower, but that was too quick for me. We only got a few minutes, and, well…” My mouth pulls into a slow smirk. “You know I like to take my time.”

Father taught us early on that what we want isn’t always what we’ll get. Patience is important. A necessity. I used to hate him for the days I spent down in the dungeon, nose pressed into a corner as I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. But in the end, it made me stronger. It’s why I didn’t lose my edge inside. A few days spent in the hole? Man, that’s just childhood nostalgia.

I’m still in control, but I’m aware.

Of the clock. The date. The time. I know when I can sink myself into her again and make her feel me inside. Make her want me as much as I want her.

Make her beg.

“Panties.”

“Why?” she asks, lowering her hands protectively to her stomach. “Why are you telling me all this? Why are you making me do this?”

It’s part of the process, Rosi.