Page 93 of Cursed

“You’re fucking perfect. Take what’s yours.”

Sadie’s movements become more deliberate, her hips rolling with newfound confidence. Each time she takes me to the hilt, a small gasp escapes her lips. I’m transfixed by the sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, her body moving with instinctive grace.

“God, you feel incredible,” she whimpers.

I’ve had countless women in my bed, but none of them ever looked at me like this—like I’m giving them a precious gift.

Her pace quickens, her breathing ragged. I can feel her tightening around me, the telltale flutter of her impending release.

“That’s it, little butterfly,” I urge, my voice breaking rough. “Show me how you fall apart when you’re the one in charge.”

The words push her over the edge. Her body tenses, her inner walls clamping down on me as she cries out. The sound of my name on her lips as she comes is almost enough to trigger my own release.

Almost.

I hold back, gritting my teeth against the desire threatening to overwhelm me. I want to see her like this a little longer, watching her lost in ecstasy.

As the waves of her orgasm begin to subside, she collapses against my chest, her breath hot against my neck. I’m still hard inside her, my own release on pause.

“You didn’t—” she starts, lifting her head to look at me, confusion in her eyes.

“Not yet,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I wanted to watch you.”

The vulnerability in her eyes makes my stomach twist. Sadie shifts, her body still joined with mine, her inner walls fluttering with aftershocks around my painfully hard cock. “Why did you let me do that?” she questions.

I trace my thumb across her lower lip. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do with freedom,” I admit. “What you would choose if I wasn’t forcing you.”

The implication hangs between us—that what she chose was me. Not because I demanded it, not because I manipulatedher body’s responses, but because she wanted it. Because she wanted me.

She rocks against me experimentally, her eyes widening when she feels how hard I am inside her. “You’re still...”

“Yes.” I grip her hips, but don’t direct her movements. “I’m not finished with you yet, little butterfly.”

A small smile tugs at her mouth—not the look of someone afraid, but of someone surprised by the power she’s just discovered. “What happens now?” she asks. “Do you want to take back the reins?”

I hesitate, annoyed at my own pause. The possessive part of me—the part that’s always defined my touch—burns to flip her over and take her hard until she screams my name. But another, quieter part wants to watch.

“That depends,” I say, measuring her. “Do you want me to take the reins again, or do you want to finish what you started?”

Sadie shifts against me, her movements sending waves of pleasure through my body. Her teeth sink into her lower lip. This moment of contemplation—her weighing her options, deciding what she truly wants—is more intoxicating than I expected.

“I...” she starts, then stops. A blush spreads across her cheeks, creeping down her neck. She looks away, unable to meet my gaze.

I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Tell me what you want, little butterfly. No consequences, no judgment. Just the truth.”

She swallows hard. “That was...” she gestures vaguely between us, “incredibly hot. Taking the lead like that.” I remain silent, waiting for her to continue. “But I like it better when you dominate me,” she admits, the words rushing out as if she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve. “I like it when you dominate me. When you... when you make me yours.”

The admission hangs between us. It’s the first time she’s openly acknowledged what I’ve always known—that beneath her resistance, her struggle against me, she craves the very dominance she claims to hate.

“Say that again,” I command.

Her breath catches. “I like it when you dominate me,” she repeats, steadier this time. “When you take what’s yours.”

My grip on her hips tightens reflexively. This willing surrender is more powerful than any submission I’ve forced from her. The knowledge that she knows exactly what she wants sends a surge of hunger through me that’s almost blinding in its intensity.

38

SADIE