Page 163 of Piggy

Silence.

I start writing big letters across his chest

Although... I am writing my name.

“Okay, okay,” he blurts suddenly, voice sharp. “I said I was in love with you, alright?”

My hand freezes mid-stroke.

“Grayson,” I whisper with affection, my heart aching.

I gaze at him, but he veers his eyes away, jaw clenched like admitting it cost him something vital.

“Why do you do that?” I whine.

Silence again.

Always guarded. Always locked up. He doesn’t have to be! How do I get past his armor?

A pause, musing.

“I got it!” I say, now realizing more and more what I want. I jolt to my feet and race upstairs.

When I return, I’m ready.

“Want freed?” I ask sweetly. “Then start talking, big guy.”

I roll my shoulders and let my robe fall.

There, I stand, wearing latex. Black corset. Semi-sheer. Baby pink garter belt. Matching panties. Hose straps clipped tight to thigh bands that hug the curves of my ass.

I stand still, let him see me.

His breath hitches, sharp and involuntary. But his expression stays stone-cold and controlled as always.

He’s pretending not to want me.

I love that. I’m getting to him. I just know it.

Therefore, I strut forward and straddle his hips, slow and bold. His mouth parts slightly, like his body’s reacting faster than his brain.

My hips lower, and I drag my pussy over his underwear. His rock hard shaft twitches.

He turns his face away. But we both know.

“I guess you like my outfit, baby?” I purr, leaning in.

His whole body tenses.

“Gonna play difficult, huh?” I ask. “That’s fine. But don’t be acoward.”

His body jerks upward, furious and brutal. His back arches, lifting me like I’m weightless, even restrained. I hang on, though.

“You little bitch,” he growls, sinking into the couch once more, glaring.

I smirk, breathless from the thrill. “Question one! Why hurt me?”

He sneers like it’s beneath him.