He raised his hands as soon as I came in, but I didn’t give him a chance to talk.
“So are we doing this or what?” I asked.
He stopped. Frowned. Then signed, “Doing what?”
It was all I could do not to let out a triumphant whoop. For once, it was him struggling to keep up.
“Sex,” I answered. I wasn’t signing, but I also wasn’t Dawn “never seen a dick in her life” Kingston anymore. I met his eyes boldly to add, “Your father was a monster, and now you’re a monster. So I figured sex would be part of the deal.”
His face went stony, and I crooked my head. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I mess up your plan to revenge fuck me without consent? I figured if it would make you feel better about things, yeah, okay, why not? It’s been a while, and I could use the distraction after getting kidnapped-married after graduation. If you want, I can go back outside and roleplay like I’m super scared and overwhelmed.”
Of course, I wasn’t nearly as confident as I sounded. I wasn’t Dawn “never seen a dick in her life” anymore. But I also wasn’t Dawn “knows how to stand up to a beautiful gangster bent on revenge.” More like Dawn “I hope I don’t throw up while faking like I’m tough stuff,” which admittedly only sounds slightly cooler than Dawn “never seen a dick.”
But whatever. I hit a nerve.
If looks were knives, I’m sure the one Victor gave me would have sliced me open.
Then he said, “Go straight to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Take off your clothes. I will meet you there. Do not lie down.”
My stomach dropped. Oh, wow, this was really happening. Typical Dawn. I hadn’t thought beyond the part where I reversed our power dynamic the best I could.
Seeing my hesitation, Victor’s eyes flashed with malicious triumph.
Okay, nope. I refused to let this domineering bastard bask in my fear. Self-doubt be gone.
I smirked and gave my shoulders a big-ass shrug. “Alright. I’ll meet you upstairs.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. Just strutted up the stairs, following his instructions. But on my terms.
I easily found the room he mentioned. It was the only one with an open door. Obviously a master, it was almost as large as the suite at Victor’s apartment in Japan. So big, I had a feeling they’d paid a contractor to knock out a wall or something to fit the large bed and mini-living room, complete with a couch and a winged back chair, which sat next to a brick fireplace framed in elegant white plaster.
This room also looked like it could easily win a feature in that Suburban Dreams mag, except for one thing. A mirror covered one entire wall. What the hell?
Usually, I’m not a huge fan of getting naked in front of mirrors. There seemed to be a law that every dressing room on the globe had to feature harsh overhead beams that highlighted every fat dimple, stretchmark, and wobbly line of cellulite.
But the light in this room was good. Soft and flattering. I stripped off my clothes and left them in a pile on the floor.
Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more.
Old thought patterns from high school began to swirl around my head. Maybe he no longer wanted me that way. Maybe the curves I’d learned to flaunt over the last four years turned him off. Maybe he’d only sent me up here to play more of his fucked up mind games, and he wasn’t even planning to join me? Plus, I was getting cold…
I was thinking of putting back on some clothes and going downstairs to see if he was still there when he appeared behind me in the mirror. Like a ghost. Or a vampire.
A completely naked ghost or vampire.
My breath caught. I’d been right about his sharper cheek bones not meaning he’d lost weight. If anything, he packed on a few more pounds of muscle and was even more cut. A tattoo of a dragon with red diamond eyes covered his entire chest. It’s tail extended down his right arm, blending with several other tats to form a sleeve. His left arm remained bare, but I’d bet money that his back was covered in ink too. It made me want to go to him, turn him around and get a good look at all his excellent new artwork.
But we didn’t have that kind of relationship. Not anymore.
And even if we did, the first thing he signed to me was, “Don’t turn around.”
I remained where I was, deeply aware of my naked form.
Without my daily walks to and from the train stations all over Tokyo, I’d gained the freshman fifteen and then some. And yeah, I represented for the cute and chubby club--especially on the rare occasion that I could drag Lena out for drinks. But it was kind of hard to be as body positive as I wanted to be when somebody was assessing all the changes in me for the first time in four years.
“Stay facing the mirror, no matter what,” he signed. His eyes were so flat and dark. They seemed to suck all the soft lighting out of the room as he opened a gold foil square.
You’d think having my back to him would be some kind of reprieve, but it made it even worse. Like having to watch the Chinese version of Candyman put on a condom before he started walking toward you.
Victor stopped directly behind me, so close I could feel the heat coming off his hard body.
He raised one hand above my shoulder so that I could see him sign, “What do you think of me now?”
Air expelled from my mouth. A breath disguised as a shudder. But I told him the truth. “I think you’re a monster.”
He smiled. Not for real, though. It was that same malevolent grin he’d given me down in the car right before he pulled out a ring.
He took my breasts in his hands and hauled me back against his body. His cock pressed into my spine, hard as steel as he worked my tits. Caressing them, rubbing them, tweaking the nipples until they turned into tight, aching buds. Both my body and mind were unprepared for what the sight of him manhandling my breasts in the mirror would do to me. Lightning bolts of pleasure zapped straight down to my core, making me squirm. Making me want more.
I was panting by the time he abruptly released one breast.
“Watch this monster,” he signed single-handedly, spelling out the signs that required both hands. “Watch him make you wet. Watch him make you beg.”
Then his signing hand dipped down between my legs.
No, he was no longer that boy. The one who had kissed me for months to get me ready for him and made love to me slowly to make sure I came.
Instead, his hand worked me expertly, rubbing around but not directly on my clit with just the right amount of pressure. Soon I was wet enough for him to sink two fingers in, and God…I let him. My legs fell open to receive him, telling the truth I would never let cross my lips. That my pussy had been waiting for this moment.
Waiting for four years.
He watched me in the mirror while he pumped his fingers into my core, steady but relentless until I was slick with arousal. So slick, we could both see how much I desired him, how much I wanted this in the mirror.
Then he pulled his fingers out.
“Taste and ride,” he commanded before sticking his fingers in my mouth and his non-dominant hand back into my pussy. The taste was tangy and mixed with the salt from his fingers.
I watched…
I watched as I sucked my essence off his fingers. I watched as I rode his hand at the same time.
I wish I could say I was only doing this because he commanded me. But a well of pleasure was already building inside my womb, making me grind into his fingers, my body yearning for more.