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Sliding my fist up and down my length, I imagine how she’d look following every depraved order I gave her. Would she spread her legs? Would she bend over for me? Would she sink to her knees and open her mouth if I demanded it of her?
Cupping my balls with my free hand, I wonder what else she’d allow me to take control of. Would she let me track her? Would she let me demand to know her every move, her every thought? Would she look to me for every decision because she knew that my job was to care for her?
Moving my fist faster, I inhale a sharp breath as I wonder if she’d call herself mine if I told her that’s what she was. If she’d let me protect and care and worship her.
Hot cum surges from the end of my dick, and I barely manage to aim into the toilet as I pant erratically, forcing myself out of my fantasy and back into the present.
Despite my release, I’m still semi-hard when I tuck my cock back into my boxers and refasten my pants. Grabbing some tissue, I clean up, making sure I haven’t made a mess before I flush, then wash my hands. There’s a tremor running through my fingers as I dry them on a hand towel, and before I can think better of it, I lift my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My pupils are dilated, and I barely recognize the person looking back at me. I don’t look like myself; I look wild and predatory, and I know it’s because of her. Seeing her again has done something to me, and I have no idea what to do to make it stop.
Apparently jerking off hasn’t lessened my attraction toward her, because I just blew my load over the fantasy of her doing anything and everything I ordered her to. And she wasn’t even fucking naked in my dirty thoughts, she was just perfectly obedient.
I’m not some fucking Fifty Shades of Grey wannabe dominant. I’ve never found the idea of ordering a woman to do something hot before. But this isn’t about some faceless woman, this is about her. Telling her what to do is different. Commanding her obedience and having her willingly give it has awakened a beast inside of me, and I have no fucking clue what to do to make it go away.
If I’d never gone to the bus station, I might never have seen her again. Although given who she’s working for and intending to live with, sooner or later she would have fallen back into my orbit again.
Before she arrived, all I could think about was how I didn’t want her in the new life I’ve created for myself, and now all I can think about is how I can keep her under my control in the new life she intends to make for herself here.
How in the space of twelve hours has she become something I covet in my life? Why can’t I hate her the way I want to?
Splashing water onto my face, I stare at myself until my expression softens into a more familiar appearance. Once I’m confident that the erratic wildness in my eyes has faded, I unlock the bathroom and make my way out to the mess hall.
The first few hours on shift after our off days are usually pretty quiet, but right now, I silently pray for an emergency so that I don’t have a chance to sit with my thoughts.
“Meeting in ten, grab a coffee if you want one,” Buck calls as he marches into the room with a tablet in his hands.
Danny catches my attention from across the room and holds up a mug for me. I nod, and then sit down in the den area we use as a meeting space. Within a few minutes, my entire team is around me, and I’m using my coffee to avoid making eye contact with any of them.
I’m not sure what, if anything, they see on my face. I know I probably look crazy, but I’m not sure I can rationally explain what the fuck is up with me, even if they asked.
“Right, it’s been a quiet few days for B team, so the law of averages says we’ll probably be run off our asses for the next four days.” Buck chuckles, lowering himself onto a chair. “On the off chance that no one sets themselves or anything else on fire, we’re going to work on recovery drills and an equipment audit.”
There’s an audible groan that reverberates through the room. No one wants to get stuck doing an equipment audit. It’s slow, boring work that I think we’d all rather leave to another time. Then, as if the fire gods are shining down on us, the alarms start blaring and we all rush to grab our equipment.
Four hours later, our entire team filters into the equipment store, dropping off our kit and protective gear. The emergency call-out was for a car accident on the freeway. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and then lost control of the car, steering his car into the lane of traffic coming the other way. At the last moment, he’d steered back onto his side of the road, overcorrected, and collided with a tree on the embankment.
Luckily for the driver, his car was mangled, but he wasn’t seriously hurt. We cut him out of his vehicle so that he could be taken to the emergency room, and then we left the cops to deal with the rest.
When I glance at my watch, my heart starts to quicken when I’m reminded that it’s lunchtime. Hanging all of my uniform back in my locker, I head for the bunk room, flopping onto my bed as I pull my cell from my pocket, hoping to find a text waiting for me from Etta.
I honestly don’t know why I’m so fixated on what she’s eating, but the idea that she might be hungry is driving me a little crazy. Unsurprisingly, she hasn’t texted me, so opening up my text app, I quickly type out a message and send it before I can rationalize why I need to stay the hell away from my fucking stepsister.
Me: Have you eaten lunch yet? I told you to send me a picture.
The message shows as read almost immediately, but she doesn’t reply.
Me: Am I going to have to video call you three times a day to make sure you’re doing what I tell you to?
Fuck, my dick twitches at the idea of watching her obey me through a video even while I’m at work.
Etta: I only just ate breakfast.
A burst of excitement ripples through me at her reply, it’s like she’s taunting me and begging me to take control. I hit call on her contact, palming my dick with one hand while I wait for her to answer.
“Are you a feeder?” she asks bravely, the moment the video connects and I can see her face on the screen.
“No,” I answer brusquely.
