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Oh, god, stop it!I yell in my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t want him. I can’t want him. He has been my tormentor, my bully. He forces and manipulates me into doing things I shouldn’t. Yet here I am, my pussy getting wet as I watch Briggs licking wing sauce off his fingers, wishing he was licking something else.
“Trade a wing for an item?” Briggs offers with a grin.
I shake my head no, and Briggs has the audacity to look offended. He finishes off his wings before closing the box with his elbow. “Lick my fingers clean,” he suddenly orders, holding out his hand to me.
The question ‘or what?’ Is sitting at the tip of my tongue, but instead of speaking the words, I lean forward to take Briggs’s middle finger into my mouth. I wrap my lips around his digit and suck the tangy wing sauce off eagerly.
I release his middle finger with a pop just to repeat the same thing with his other fingers and thumb. All the while, my seductive gaze never leaves his heated one.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Now, are you ready for dessert?”
“No, thanks.” I shake my head. There is no way I’m taken off anything else. Even though part of me craves it, I won’t give into him like that.
“I think you should at least try some. This one is a warm, chocolate chip cookie. It’s still gooey in the center.” He opens the dessert box and breaks off a piece of the cookie.
The prick holds it right in front of my face, the buttery smell of the pastry invading my senses. It does smell really good. Now that I’ve drunk something, my mouth is watering for more. And the stupid gooey cookie is calling my name. But I won’t budge. My dignity is worth more than some sweet treat. I won’t sit here with my tits out just for a bit of a chocolate cookie.
“Just give in already. You know I’ll get the shirt off of you one way or another. At least this way you have the illusion of a choice.”
I frown. Of course, he isn’t really giving me a choice. No matter what I do, I will end up with my clothes off and him between my legs. Again, that thought should worry me. I wait for the fear to kick in, but it never comes. Only excitement fills my veins.
Briggs brings the cookie even closer, pressing the warm chocolate right to my lips. Against my better judgment, I part them, letting him feed me the gooey pastry.
Just like the rest of the food, the cookie is phenomenal. I chew it slowly, closing my eyes. I savor every little morsel like it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Which I think it might be.
“I told you it was going to be good.” Briggs chuckles.
This time when I open my eyes and look at him, I see the same version of him that was at the party. He is relaxed, less hostile, almost happy. It all makes sense now; he was high on weed at the party too. I like high Briggs, I decide. He is nice, gentle and, dare I say, sweet.
Instead of asking me to take off the shirt, he scoots closer, grabs the hem of it, and pulls it over my body until I’m in nothing but my panties. Goosebumps pebble over my flesh as Briggs palms my breasts, kneading them like he is the one giving me a massage now. Heat builds in my core and small waves of pleasure ripple through me.
Feeling my cheeks heat up, I realize I must be blushing. I turn my face, trying to hide it from Briggs. His hand leaves my breast to cup my face instead. He pulls it back toward him. “Don’t hide from me, little bird.” His voice is soft, his touch gentle.
I blink at him a few times, confused by the tender moment, when I notice how dry and small my eyes feel. “I think my eyeballs are shrinking,” I blurt out.
Briggs drops his hands from my face and starts laughing. “What?” he asks between chuckles.
“I feel like my eyeballs are shrinking. They are so dried out,” I explain, while running my fingertips around my eyes to see if it feels different.
“You are just high.” He waves me off. “Are you still on your period?” Briggs asks as if something between now and an hour ago has changed.
His question makes me laugh. “Yes, I’m still on my period.” I giggle.
“Your asshole isn’t,” Briggs quips, wiping the smile off my face.
“You are not touching me back there,” I say sternly.
“Not today, but trust me, little bird, I’ll take that from you too,” he promises, making me shutter. “You know the best part about having this single room?”
“No snoring roommate?”
“Well, that. But I was thinking more about the attached bathroom. Let’s go take a shower together,” he says, already shoving the food boxes to one side of the mattress so we can get out of the bed without climbing over them.
When I don’t move right away, Briggs takes my hand and pulls me up. My body is still sluggish, but with his support, I make it to my feet. He leads me into the attached bathroom, only letting go of my hand to take off his clothes.
I lean against the wall, watching him strip down. He must be spending the times he doesn’t stalk me at the gym, because his body is carved out of stone.
“Lose your panties,” he orders while turning on the shower.
