Page 20 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“Tell me I’m hurting you.”
He was hurting me.
But I liked it.
He yanked my arms mercilessly behind me. “Tell me.”
“You’re hurting me,” I said weakly.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Stop.” Don’t stop.
“Tell me you don’t want this from me.”
“I don’t—want this—from you.” Each word was its own struggle. I meant the words, and yet I didn’t. I wanted him, b
ut knew I shouldn’t. And was this only a game? Was he just testing me? Or, worse, was he back there laughing at me in the dark? I had no way to tell.
“Good girl. You don’t want this from me, sweet thing.” He backed off slightly and somehow imprisoned both my wrists with one of his hands. The other one snaked around to my belly.
And down the front of my pants.
Oh God oh God oh God.
“You don’t want my hands on your pussy.”
Confession: I almost came right there.
His fingers slipped between my legs.
“You don’t want my tongue on your clit.”
He dipped a fingertip inside me, then slowly rubbed silky wetness over the hot little button, which tingled and swelled at his touch.
“You don’t want my cock inside you.” His fingers slid down to my center and plunged slowly inside, leaving me breathless.
He pulled them out and pushed them in again, even deeper this time. Flattening the heel of his hand against my pussy, he rubbed my clit as his fingertips awakened parts of me I never even knew existed. Parts that hummed and ached and tightened like a vise.
“You don’t want me to make you come. Don’t let me.”
Oh fuck, was he serious? Was this part of the game? I had no idea what to do—it wasn’t like I could move away or stop him from touching me. He had me immobilized, his hands controlling every part of me except my mind, and Christ, he had that pretty well dominated too. I’d never felt so powerless over my own sexual responses. And if he didn’t want me to come, why was he touching me this way, making me squirm and writhe and tremble beneath him?
“Tell me not to make you come.”
“Don’t make me come.” My voice was high-pitched and laced with frustration.
“Louder,” he demanded, rubbing me harder, fucking me deeper with his fingers, pushing his hard cock into my ass.
“Don’t make me come!” I cried, even as my legs began to go numb with pleasure and the tension at my core coiled tighter and tighter before exploding in a series of rhythmic contractions that had me clenching around his fingers so hard I thought I might break them.
Before I could feel my feet on the floor again, the power flicked on.
“Oh!” The sudden blast of light shocked me. I’d forgotten every light was on. Charlie pulled his hand from my pants and released his hold, stepping back as if we’d been caught doing something naughty in the closet at school.
For a moment I stayed where I was, cheek on the marble, frozen.
What the hell had just happened?
