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“You want me to touch your pussy?”
She trembled against me, but I was ninety-nine percent sure it was from pleasure, not fear. “I— Yes, please.”
“Tell me then, very pretty. I adore begging. ‘Please, Liam, will you touch my pussy?’”
“Please, Liam, will you touch my pussy?” she whispered.
“Show me where. Show me with your body where you want to be touched.”
She looked up at me, confusion clouding her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Show me. Spread your legs. Turn toward me. Open for me and show me that you want me to touch you. Be responsive so I can read you.”
She let out a long, slow breath and shifted against me. I moved my hand down her waist, across her thigh. I wanted to feel her wet heat so bad but I couldn’t grab her the way I wanted to. I couldn’t grope her and thrust three or four fingers up there so she moaned and fought me. No. Those were the other girls. This was Ashleigh, who was looking a little more scared now.
“Jesus, baby.” I slid my fingers over slick, bare skin to part her pussy lips. “You have no idea how much you excite me. You’re shaved bare. It’s so pretty.”
“We…we have to be bare,” she stammered. “For dance.”
“Well, I like it. Your pussy is beautiful. So soft and wet.”
She made a stifled moan of a sound as I found the hood of her clit and massaged beneath it, to her thrusting little pearl. “Ohh,” she said. Her whole body arched off the bed.
“I wish I had some clothespins to put on your nipples,” I whispered. “And on your clit. I think you’d like that even more.”
“They hurt,” she sighed.
“Like this?”
I pinched one of her nipples—hard—at the same time I manipulated her slippery button. Her mouth fell open and I pinched it harder. She pressed her body against mine, seeking the roughness at the same time she tried to push my fingers away.
“No,” I said. “Let me.”
I pinched the other nipple just as hard, caught up in her sweet stuttering breaths. I almost kissed her, but then I didn’t. This was power exchange, not romance. No strings attached. I held her close and stroked over her clit again. “I can tell you enjoy that, baby. Do you want me to make you come?”
I almost said “Do you want Daddy to make you come?” because I was with a lot of girls who got off on that, but I’d retained just enough sanity to catch myself. “Let me make you come,” I whispered. “I can tell you’re close.”
She opened her legs a little more, thrusting her hips against my side. It was criminal that this sensual, responsive woman had gone so many years without the pleasures of sex. I hoped she didn’t stop me or ask me to do something else to her because I really, really wanted to bring her to orgasm right here, right now. I could feel her draw up tighter, hear her breathing intensify the closer she got.
“Please,” she said. “Please, try now.”
“Try what?”
“Sex. Please, I want you inside me. Please, Liam.”
Damn her for the begging. It was a weak spot with me. “Are you sure?” I rasped. My cock was aching, about to explode.
“Yes, please.”
Her eyes were closed. I studied her. Worried a little. “Look at me. Eye contact.” She opened her eyes but she wasn’t really looking at me. When I pressed deeper between her folds to finger her pussy, I could see I was losing her.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want it. Just tell me.”
“Don’t stop. Please! Please just make me. Make me do it!”
It was like a bucket of ice water. I sat up on the bed beside her, shaking my head. She looked about to shatter.
“Why are you stopping?” she cried. “Just make me.”
“No. You know I’m not going to do that. I’m never going to force you, I told you that from the beginning.”
She burst into tears. I rubbed her back and then I pulled her to me and hugged her. “I know,” I said against her ear. “I know you’re angry, I know you’re frustrated. I know you want me to keep going, to force you to do it, but I can’t. If I’m trying to help you, honey—” She pushed away from me but I held her tight. “Look at me. If I’m trying to help you, why would I do exactly what your father did to you? I’m trying to give your sense of safety back, not make things worse.”
“You don’t understand,” she cried. “I just need to— I just need to get past it. Then I think everything will seem better.”
“Oh, you think that? I think everything will seem worse. Because then Liam Wilder is Daddy with a different face.”
She struggled away from me, ran to the corner and started to dress. “I have to go. I can’t do this.”
“It’s okay if you have to go.”
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder. “Consent, right? Great. But you’re not helping me.” She flailed behind her, trying to reach the zipper of her dress. I pulled on my jeans and crossed to her, but she batted my hand away. “Leave me alone.”
“Let me help you,” I said.
She slid away despite my best efforts and yelled at me from across the room. “I don’t need your help. All of this is stupid and pointless. Stupid games that mean nothing!”
“Games?” My temper flared. “I’m doing what you asked. You asked me to help you, sweet pea. Remember that?”
“I asked you to help because I thought you’d actually help me.”
“I’m trying to do the responsible thing, trying to protect you.”
“And I have no say in anything?
Oh, that’s right, because I’m the fucking submissive in this—this—ridiculous farce!”
Ridiculous farce? Oh, even better. “You wanted the D/s,” I reminded her. “You practically begged for it.”
“Because I thought you’d know what you were doing, but you don’t. You’re too wishy-washy. Too soft.”
The longer she stood there screaming insults at me, the more I questioned what the fuck I’d ever hoped to accomplish in these sessions. What on earth made me think I was qualified to help her?
“Fine. Go,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Let’s not waste any more of each other’s time.”
“Get out of my way then. You’re blocking the door.”
I gave a mocking bow and moved to the side, resisting the urge to grab her and hold her down and make her take all her words back. I let her go without trailing along after her, because the whole purpose of my “consent talk” was to teach her that leaving was okay. Mem would have heard the yelling from downstairs. He’d intercept her, calm her down and see her back to her place.
As for me, I didn’t know my next step. I knew this process wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but I didn’t think it would get so wretched by the second session. I felt protective toward her, too protective, too involved, and I hated that feeling. I could run a company providing services for thousands of clients, but I couldn’t bear to feel connected to this one tormented girl. I could play with dozens of “crazy” partners and feel nothing, but playing with Ashleigh…
I sat at the table and stared into space, steeling myself against hurt feelings. No strings attached. That was the only way I’d survive this. I wasn’t going after her. I couldn’t force her to return for another session, any more than I could force myself between her legs.
I heard a quiet knock at the door. I wished it was Ash, but no, it was Mem’s signature tap. I looked over my shoulder at him.
