My body was wired, filled with nervousness and excitement as I stripped naked while he was in the shower. I crawled into his bed. It smelled like him, like sandalwood and Newport’s. The scent of him and the adrenaline coursing through my veins made me so wet.
I laid back, pinched and rubbed my nipples until they were tight and aching. I cupped them, massaged them and imagined it was King until I could no longer help myself. I needed to touch my clit. I spread my thighs, slid my fingers between my already wet folds. “Ooh,” I moaned softly, grazing my hard bud. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to that night. I could vividly see King lazily and languidly stroking his stiff cock. I slipped two slick fingers into my tight opening, undulating my hips.
A sharp inhalation of breath caused my eyes to pop open. King was at his bedroom door watching me. His eyes were ablaze and centered directly on my pussy.
“Show me,” I said softly. “Do what you did before.” I wanted him to touch himself again, this time just for me. He startled, as if he had been in a trance and my words brought him out of it. His eyes moved from between my thighs to my face. He gave me a steady glare, his nostrils flared.
“Get the fuck out of my room.” I was unnerved and turned on by his ominous tone. I was also determined.
I brazenly dragged my free hand over my breast. The flesh tightened. His eyes became fixated on them again. “Not until you do what you did that night, just for me.” I pinched my nipple, tugging at it and whimpered, “please don’t make me beg.”
He shook his head. “We can’t do this!” The stark hunger in his eyes told me differently. I knew he wanted to. He just needed a little coaxing.
I spread my legs wider, giving him a better view of my pussy. I began fucking myself with my fingers.
I pouted and arched my back, pushing my breast forward. “Please, Ashford.” I had never called him by that name, and I could tell he liked it. His whole body flushed.
He groaned deep in his throat, cursed, looked away for just a second. When he looked back, I could see the defeat in his eyes. He dropped his towel, spat in his hand and fisted his cock.
He should have never given in to me. The feminine power I felt from breaking his will fed dark, needy parts of me. He was older. He was more experienced. He was supposed to be able to resist me but couldn’t. I had made him do what I knew he didn’t want to do. I was addicted.
He seemed traumatized after and avoided me at all cost. The next time I was able to get him alone was nearly a week later. Our parents had thrown a party. I had been watching him all night. He’d come with a red head. Not the one I caught him fucking, but a different one. I guess that was his preferred aesthetic.
He never let me catch his eyes nor had he looked my way until I was talking to one of the many males in the room, then I’d feel the heavy weight of his stare.
I became a social butterfly that night, basking in his covert attention more than the men who were openly interested in me. I even danced. I tied my floor-length dress around my thick thighs and let myself get lost in the beat. My momma encouraged me.
She was happy because I’d let her use me like a doll. She’d straightened my kinky hair until it hung down my back. She made me squeeze my size twelve body into a size eight red mermaid dress that fit me like a second skin. People kept telling us we looked like sisters or that she looked too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter. She joined me on the dance floor that night, showing me attention I had always wanted from her, but it meant nothing. She was only doing it because so many men watched us, wanting us. I was only concerned about King. I wanted his attention.
I danced until I saw him leave the dining area, then I followed.
He was coming out of the bathroom when I pushed him back into it. I locked the door and pressed my back against it.
He backed up and leaned lazily against the sink. He gave me a dark dangerous once over. Again, his eyes were really low and red, as if he was high or drunk. He always seemed to be one or the other.
“You look stunning,” he complimented.
Instead of thanking him or complimenting him back, I said exactly what was on my mind.
“You’ve been hiding from me. I don’t like that.”
He cocked his head and laughed, a deep rich sound that caused my stomach to clench.
“I wasn’t hiding. I was avoiding you. Avoidance is good under the circumstances,” he said
I rolled my eyes dismissively, then got down to the business at hand. “I want to do what you did to yourself. I want to touch you.”
He shook his head, after studying my face for a moment. “No, we’re not doing anything like that again.” It wasn’t a very adamant no, and he made no move to leave the room. He outweighed me by fifty pounds. There was no way I could keep him there if he didn’t want to be.
“You say that like you really believe it. If you want to leave, leave.” I grinned while pulling the top of my dress down over my breasts. They bounced once then settled. My breasts were perfect double D cups that sat up on their own. My nipples were the color and size of Hershey kisses.
His breath hitched and the arrogant smile he’d worn fell away. His reaction gave me satisfaction. It made me feel even more brazen.
I invaded his space until I stood flush against him. I smirked when I felt his hard dick pressed into my thigh.
“Leave,” I challenged.
His head lulled forward; he pressed his forehead to mine. Our lips were inches apart. His breath smelled like cigarettes and expensive whiskey.
“You’re determined to make me ruin your life.” It sounded as if he felt sorry for me. He reached up, gripped my neck, applying enough pressure to spike my adrenaline. I liked it. I raised my head daring him to squeeze harder.
“Like you could,” I taunted
“I can. And I very well might.” He drew his bottom lip into his mouth. “Keep playing, little sister, and I’m going to give you the nine inches of heartache you keep begging for.” It was a warning I would later wish I would have taken heed of.
He used his thumb to trace my lips once, then his hand dropped to his side.
Instead of walking away from the fire that would later burn me, I pressed my lips to the sliver of exposed skin around his collar, peppered his warm flesh with kisses.
His breathing turned heavy.
“Teach me, please.” I whispered close to his lips. If my momma hadn’t taught me much else, she’d taught me to say please. It worked.
The low groan that came from his mouth signaled his defeat.
In the next moment I heard the metal on metal clank of his belt, heard his zipper being unzipped. I felt his pants graze my legs as they fell to the floor. They pooled around his ankles.
He was being extra helpful for someone who had told me “no” a minute earlier.
He grabbed my hand, ran his tongue over the palm wetting it. The sensation made butterflies dance in my belly. His hand shook as he guided mine to his cock. It was hard and hot. I could barely wrap my fingers around it, it was so thick. I circled the head gathering sticky fluid.
He hissed.
I rose to my tippy toes, traced the curve of his jaw with my nose. He groaned.
I brought my lips to his ear, making him shiver as my breath hit his flesh. “Show me!” I wanted to please him.
He set the pace. He guided my hand up and down his shaft, showing me how to stroke him. “Tighter,” he moaned and gyrated his hips, sliding his cock in and out of my grip.