Page 169 of Handsome Devil
Because oh yes, if he gave me a repeat performance of what he did to me at the office the other day, I would come.
And maybe while I did… he’d jerk himself off again. Make those soft but harsh grunting noises that ran up and down my spine as he fisted his dick. Bring himself to orgasm while he fingered me, and come all over my pussy again.
Did the sight of his come dripping off my pussy please him?
Or did it piss him off, that I got him that hot? That I hadn’t broken down yet and fucked him?
Did he like the sight of me down on my knees, spread open for him? His naughty fake wife who couldn’t be controlled? Who had a mind of her own? Who didn’t just obediently do whatever he said?
Did the negative energy firing back and forth between us turn him on as much as it turned me on?
When I walked away from him tonight in the crowd and he watched me watch Shane in that fight, did it make him jealous? Did it make him hard?
Did it make him hard when we argued, like it made me wet?
Or was this all just about the power?
Was that all that was turning him on here? The sense of conquering me, one sexual act at a time?
He checked his phone. Then he opened the door a bit and said to Rolf, “We can go. He’s not coming.”
After he’d shut the door and Rolf had us on our way, and Dane still hadn’t said a thing to me, I asked him, “Who’s not coming? Were we waiting for Shane?”
“I waited out of courtesy. In case he wanted a ride, or to talk to us.”
“He didn’t?”
“He’s busy. Having his cock sucked.” Without looking at me he added, “Disappointed?”
“Should I be?” I fired back.
He didn’t respond.
“He took the time to text you,” I inquired, “while getting his cock sucked?”
He looked at me. The streetlights rolled over his face in slow, cold slashes of light as we drove. “Let’s not play games. He flirts with you. And you like it.”
“So? What if I do?” I didn’t, particularly. I had no interest in Shane.
But for whatever reason, maybe the two of them thought I did?
“Do you like it because you like him?” he asked me. “Or because you like trying to fuck with me?”
“How could I possibly fuck with you? I’m fairly certain you may actually be a cyborg. The way I see it, the only feeling you were allotted in your programming was a mild, passing hatred for humans. Myself included. And a misplaced feeling of possessiveness for everything that appears in your path.”
“You’re my wife,” he said flatly. “Fake or not.”
“So I’m not allowed to enjoy it when men who are capable of human emotion, other than hatred, flirt with me? It’s called pleasant social interaction. You should try it.”
He looked unmoved. “You’re allowed to enjoy anything you want.”
Christ, he was stubborn.
“You know, it’s your fault for making it so damn enjoyable to fight with you,” I told him.
He studied me, his eyes cold and hard. Strange, how the cold and hard sometimes made him so fuckinghot… and other times just pissed me off.
“How far would you take it?” he said.
