Page 58 of Twisted Play

In retaliation, he gently squeezed the sides of my throat. “No, sparrow.”

Fuck him. I slid one hand past his and circled my clit with my finger, determined to get myself off as quickly as possible and end this farce.

Cole’s answering smile was fucking breathtaking. “Oh, sparrow, you fucked-up idiot. Move your hand away from my pussy.”

I ignored him as pleasure coiled deep in my core, only for him to squeeze my throat in warning. “You’re not in charge here,” he snapped. “And I believe the deal for my silence was doing whatever the fuck I wanted. I want you to pull your fingers out of your sopping, needy pussy.”

Reluctantly, I did.

“Give me another taste,” he murmured.

My eyes flicked to his, and instead of amusement, I saw only his blown pupils, his eyes hooded with desire. Tentatively, I lifted my hand to his lips. He wrapped them around my fingers, one by one, and I felt an answering pull in my core as he sucked the evidence of my arousal off my fingers.

Oh fuck.

“That’s my good girl.” I fucking melted. I hated how much I wanted to please this asshole, how much his stupid fucking words of praise lodged in my chest and made me proud—happy, even, especially after his cruel words moments before.

He must have seen my change in attitude, because he slid his fingers right back into my waiting pussy.

“Beg me for it,” he cooed. “C’mon, sparrow. You’ve been such a good, filthy slut for me so far. You’re almost there. Just tell me what you need.”

I scoffed. “What I need? Fuck you, Cole. I need to be fighting for my life, and my father’s, every fucking day. Ineed to survive this miserable fucking year. I need to get into med school.”

He tilted his head to study me, never stopping his slow movements in and out of me, drawing pleasure as easily as he drew my ire.

“You need a break too, I think,” he murmured. “From all that.” He twisted his wrist and—oh my god. Pleasure rocketed through me as he hit the right spot, ratcheting up my need as every sensation intensified.

“Cole,” I whispered, “please. Please don’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do you feel your pussy clenching around my fingers every time I remind you what you are to me? So fucking hot, such a perfectly delicious little slut.”

I moaned as he held his palm away from my clit, pressing against it with his thumb instead, hating that he was right, hating how turned on I was, hating everything about this fucking situation.

“Cole, please!” I gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can. Now fucking beg me to let you come like the dirty girl you’re so desperate to be.”

I sobbed once, swallowing the sound before it could escape again. How could he make me degrade myself like this? And how could I be so wet, so needy, while he did it?

“Sparrow,” Cole said, his voice low and rumbly. “Give me what I want, and I’ll let you come.”

“Just let me go,” I begged, hating him and hating myself. “Please.”

“No.”

I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see the triumph in his eyes when I released my pride. “Please, Cole. I need—” I choked, unable to finish the sentence. “Fucking please.”

“There you go,” he murmured. “I knew you could do it. Please what?”

“Please let me come,” I whispered.

“That’s it. Keep going. Tell me what a slut you are, how you want me to make you come.”

“Cole, please,” I begged, leaving my dignity behind, refusing to care about showing my weak underbelly to my tormentor. “Please!”

“Please what, sparrow?”

“Please fuck me with your fingers. Please touch my clit. Please let me come!”