Page 56 of The Roommate Subtext

They’re supposed to, he replied. Do you like it?

He had a terrible intuition about these sorts of things.

She blushed as she wrote back. Yes.

Good, he wrote. Do you like it when I ask you to do wicked things, Rose?

She shivered. Yes.

I know, he replied. Now, go rub against the corner of some piece of furniture until you soak through those panties.

Holy shit. Maggie made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan, but there was no one there to hear it. Was she really going to do this? Yes, of course she was. She loved doing the wicked things he asked of her. She could lean into the pure kink play of it all and not think about feelings.

Lies, the voice in her head said, and she ignored it.

Yes, sir, she typed.

Her face burned with embarrassment as she slid off her pants, standing in their living room in only her T-shirt and underwear. Blake wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. Unless he forgot something, she thought. Unless he decided he doesn’t want to go grocery shopping. It was unlikely, but even the unlikely possibility had her trembling with inappropriate excitement as she pressed herself down against the corner of the kitchen table.

Fuck, that shouldn’t feel good. She leaned forward, bracing herself on her palms on the hardwood table, and pressed against the surface. The friction was perfect, exactly where she needed it. Pleasure sparked all through her as she rubbed against the table. It was obscene and humiliating and wonderful. Her breasts rubbed against her T-shirt, pinched nipples brushing the fabric, slowly growing numb from the clothespins.

She could edge like this, maybe even come, but she knew he wouldn’t give her permission. Instead, she rocked harder and faster, letting that pleasure build, the promised denial somehow even sweeter.

Before she got to the edge, she stopped and forced herself to back away from the table. I did it, she typed.

What did you rub against?

The edge of the dining room table.

Are you soaked?

Her face burned. Yes.

If I tell you you’re a slutty girl, do you like that, or does that turn you off? he asked.

Another check-in. He always checked in with her. I like it right now, she said.

Good, because that was a slutty thing to do. What would your roommate think?

He’d be horrified, she wrote, smiling to herself.

Better clean the corner of that table. When it’s clean, you can take those clothespins off. Be naked when you do.

Maggie did as he asked, cleaning the entire table for good measure. Then she went into the bedroom, stripped off her clothes, and unclipped her nipples.

Oh fuck. Pain raced through her, hard and sharp, and she fumbled the clips. That hurt far more than putting them on. What the fuck, she messaged. He sent a smile emoji in return.

Always more painful coming off than going on, he wrote.

I get that now. She sat on her bed, curling her legs up beneath her. Are you going to let me come?

Not sure, he wrote. Ask me again in a half hour.

A half hour, was he fucking kidding? She frowned at the phone. Seriously?

Seriously, he wrote back. I’m in public. And since you’re pushing back, edge at least five times in that half hour.

Maggie didn’t like not getting her way, but also, she loved the thrill of playing along. Fine, she wrote.