Page 62

Margot

CREAK!

The door opening makes me stop mid-sentence. I pause the recording, surprised. Matty stands at the entrance to my studio.

“Hey, babe. What are you doing in here?” My voice carries clear confusion. He never interrupts me when I’m working.

“Keep going, sweet girl.” The cocky grin I wish I didn’t love so much curls across his face.

I smile despite myself, turning back toward the mic before his words register. Keep going? Now? During this chapter?

“Oh, no, it’s okay. Why don’t we get some lunch? Dotty can probably whip something up,” I offer quickly, hoping to distract him.

“Oh, I intend to eat.” His grin turns wolfish. “Now, keep reading. I want to hear.”

I blink, confused. If he wants food, why is he telling me to keep narrating?

He strolls to the couch and sprawls out, his head next to the extra mic. I sit frozen in my armchair, staring at him in disbelief .

“Now, Margot. Keep reading.” His voice deepens into an order.

I open a different chapter, something cleaner, safer. He sighs.

“No, Margot. The chapter you were on.”

I freeze. There’s no way he knows what I was reading, right?

“I won’t say it again.”

A shiver runs down my spine. My hips twitch. I’m aching to rebel.

You are such a slut for him.

I play the recording.

“ He’s straddling my hips, not letting me move. His hands hold his aching cock, stroking it slowly, never breaking eye contact. I drop my gaze, unable to withstand the heat, the ownership in his gaze. My eyes land on the head of his member, and I follow a drop of precum.

‘Beg for me, sunshine. We both know you still want me. No matter what I did. You’ll always want me–’”

I pause it.

“This isn’t necessary. I can continue later.” I mumble, face burning. My voice was steady moments ago, but now I can’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me.”

I hesitate before listening.

“Good girl. Now come here. Bring the mic.”

No explanation. Just a command.

Curious and helpless to resist, I move toward him. He points to a spot on the floor in front of him. I go.

Without warning, he grabs my waist and yanks my yoga pants down. Panties too.

“What–”

“Step out. Arms up. ”

I obey before I’ve even processed what he’s doing. And now I’m standing completely naked in the middle of my studio.

He grips my waist, grunting as he lifts me and places me on his chest, all while lying down.

Damn, he’s strong.

My knees press to either side of him, but he slaps my thigh in same spot as always, and I drop onto him, my full weight settling against his chest.

My arousal soaks through his shirt.

“Scoot up and sit on my face.”

I snap my gaze to his. His eyes are gleaming with mischief, though the rest of his expression is deadly serious.

I laugh nervously and unsure, but the look he gives me wipes it clean off my face.

“What? No! Absolutely not.”

“Do it.” His voice sharpens.

“I’m too heavy.”

Slap . Same spot.

“Don’t say that. You’re nowhere near big, and I’m insulted you think I couldn’t handle you. I just lifted you off the floor while lying down.”

“I’ll smother you.”

“Death between my sweet girl’s thighs, her pussy drowning me, sounds like the perfect way to go.”

“But–”

“Now, Margot. Or I’ll spank you.”

Heat rushes through me.

“My dirty, little slut, already dripping. I can feel it through my shirt. Feel your thick thighs clench around me. I need to find a punishment you don’t enjoy… Edging and orgasm denial seemed to work.”

He’s right.

If he wants to suffocate between my thighs, then so be it .

I crawl up his body, and his hands guide me until my thighs are framing his face. I stay on my knees, hovering just above him.

“Grab the mic. Finish the chapter.”

“What?”

“You’re finishing the recording. Just like this.”

I stare at him, frozen.

Slap.

“Fuck! Stop doing that!”

“I can see, feel, and smell how turned on you are. Don’t pretend you hate it. Now read the scene.”

I grab the mic and play the track.

“ I can’t even deny it. I’ll always want him. Nothing he’s done, nothing he could do would ever change that. My body knows its master– ”

“You can come when you finish the chapter,” he growls then pulls me down.

His mouth pounces instantly. There’s no buildup. He’s slurping, tongue-fucking, devouring me.

I start grinding against his face. I can’t help it.

Slap.

Same. Damn. Spot.

I fumble back into narration, my words broken and breathy. I stumble and stutter. Moans spill between sentences. My volume fluctuates wildly.

Every time I stop reading, he slaps the same spot. When I get into a groove, he triples his effort destroying any composure.

Read. Grind. Pause. Slap. Repeat.

His mouth is a melody of sin beneath me, a wet soundtrack to my humiliation. No editor will ever hear this. It’s practically pornographic.

I’m not even processing the chapter anymore. The words are just sounds. I couldn’t tell you what I’m saying. I couldn’t tell you my name .

But somehow, I finish it.

The last two paragraphs nearly kill me, but I survive. Barely.

And then it ends.

And so do I.

I fall apart screaming. Maybe his name, maybe nonsense. I don’t know. I don’t care. The orgasm rips through me like a supernova.

My vision whites out, sparks dancing behind my eyes. I drop the mic. My fingers tangle through his hair, holding him to me as he licks me through the aftershock.

When the shaking finally subsides, I slide down his chest and collapse on top of him.

He wraps me in his arms, chin resting on my head, gently rubbing my back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

I melt. I don’t have the strength to reply. I just curl deeper into his warmth.

“Send me that recording. Then delete it. No one hears my woman’s pleasure but me.” It’s a possessive growl.

I nod faintly, too dazed to even feel smug about what he’ll do when he listens to it.

He drapes a blanket over us, tucking me against him as my eyelids grow heavy. I’m wrapped in him, buried in his scent, lulled by his steady breathing.

I could get used to this.