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“You upset your sister.”
“Are you serious? You brought me to this dusty, empty room so you could tell me off for upsetting my sister?” she hisses, annoyance pouring from her in waves, although I can see what I think might be hurt flashing in her eyes.
“You’re being a bitch, Princess,” I snarl, taking a step closer to her. I’m stalling, because I know why I brought her here. It’s because I want to be near her, I want to touch her. I want her under my control.
“So, I’m told,” she says sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip, her lips pursed together.
“I told you to come to the boat, and you ignored me,” I say, closing the distance between us with another step.
Her breath hitches, and her shoulders tense. For a moment, I wonder if she’s scared. But she shouldn’t be. I’ve never hurt her, never done anything she didn’t want or enjoy.
“I’d never hurt you, not unless you asked me too,” I growl, pausing only inches away from her, close enough that she has to tip her head back to look at me.
Inhaling shakily, she runs her tongue over her lips, coating them in a shiny wetness that makes me want to lean down and kiss her. I hadn’t planned to kiss her the other day. Sex can be impersonal, but kissing is intimate, it’s a connection. But I couldn’t resist, I’d needed to taste her then, and I want to do it again now.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.
“What am I doing?” I ask, smiling as I reach out and run the back of my knuckles over the apple of her cheek.
Swallowing, she turns her face, enough to avoid looking at me but not far enough to move away from my touch. “It was just sex to break the will, that’s all,” she lies.
“It was so much more than just sex. Did you forget how loudly you screamed my name when I made you come over and over?” I ask, stroking my knuckle down her cheek until I can grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her to look at me again.
“Hawthorn.”
“Do you remember how it felt to have my tongue, my fingers, and my cock inside you?” I purr seductively, tilting her chin up.
“I…”
“You gave me control. You gave me you, to use as I pleased.” Leaning into her, I pause when our lips are almost touching. “And you loved it, Princess. You loved being mine. You loved every fucking moment.”
I sense rather than see her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. She’s not Penelope Rhodes right now. She’s not caustic and antagonistic, she’s soft and pliant, she’s my Princess. Mine.
“I’ll give you one chance to leave, Princess. If you go now, I won’t stop you, and this will be done. But if you stay, I’m going to touch you. I’m going to take over your body just like I did the other morning. Pick, make a decision right now, you have twenty seconds,” I say, dropping my hold on her and taking a step back, leaving her path to the door clear.
Silently, I count down, keeping my gaze locked with hers, while I wait for a sign that she’s going to leave. I told her she could go, but I’m honestly not sure I could actually let her walk away from me if she tried to. When she shuffles on the spot, crossing and uncrossing her arms, I tense, bracing for her rejection, but as the seconds drift past, she doesn’t leave.
After what feels like a lifetime, I move toward her again. “Time’s up, Princess. If you’re staying, then turn around, bend over, and hold on to the arm of the couch.”
Even though she’s still here, I hold my breath waiting for her to bolt for the door. It’s one thing for her to have the bravado to stay when I’m taunting her with the orgasms I gave her the last time we were together, but it’s another to actually cede control to me again. This time, there’s no will for her to use as an excuse or to distance herself from her feelings. If she stays now, it’ll simply be because she wants to, because she needs to let me dominate her until she’s lost in the pleasure I can give her.
Her eyes are blown wide and filled with panic, but I don’t go to her or soothe her. A part of me wants to, but that’s not what she needs. I can’t give her an excuse to justify wanting this, she needs to admit it to herself and accept it. I won’t allow her to pretend I coerced her into this. She needs to make this decision, and I need to stay here, not touching her until she does.
It feels like it takes an eternity while she wavers on the spot, biting her lip as she struggles with her decision. Finally, her arms fall to her sides, and she slowly turns away from me, takes the few steps across the room to the couch, then bends over.
My dick hardens as the hem of her skirt lifts with her movement. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but instead of the long socks she usually wears, today she’s in ankle socks, leaving miles of creamy thighs on display for me. Reaching down, I squeeze my dick through the fabric of my slacks.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
For a minute, I just stare at her, imagining all the filthy things I could do to her in this position. Closing the distance between us in two steps, I run my fingertips up the back of her thigh, lifting her skirt and exposing her perfect ass and white lace panties.
“I’ll admit that I never really saw any appeal to this uniform until now. But seeing you bent over like this is giving me a whole new appreciation for plaid skirts and socks,” I growl, flipping her skirt completely up, exposing her ass and fabric-wrapped pussy to my hungry gaze. “You look like a filthy little school girl waiting to get punished. I’ve never been into roleplay, but I think I’d enjoy teaching you a lesson,” I taunt, stepping between her legs and forcing her to shuffle her feet further apart.
“Hawthorn,” she whines.
“Have you been a naughty girl?” I drawl.
“Hawthorn.”
