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Whatever his choices were between, even as he might be considering the darkest of options, I still wanted him impossibly. I threw everything I had into my next entreaty. “Please, Reeve. You never said… and I didn’t know that was what you expected of me.”

He spun back to me, resolved. “Then since I ‘never said,’ I better make sure you hear it clearly when I say it now so that you can never say you didn’t know what’s expected of you in the future.”

He undid his belt buckle, and I imagined he planned to use it. To hide me with, I hoped. Not to strangle. But he didn’t pull it from his pants loops, undoing his zipper and pulling his cock out instead.

“On your knees,” he ordered, and in the grit of his voice I could hear just how angry he was.

I didn’t move.

Please, no. Not like this. I’d been okay when he said he’d do this on the phone, but I’d thought I’d have time to prepare, both physically and mentally. I’d been okay when he wasn’t angry.

“On your knees, Emily, or I’ll get you down there, and trust me you won’t like it if I do.”

I wouldn’t say no to him. Not just because of Amber or because I was afraid of what he’d do if I did, but also because I didn’t know how. Slowly, I got down on all fours, my head away from him, my behind displayed for him like a present. Don’t tense up, I coached myself taking a deep breath in, letting it out. It would only make it worse if I wasn’t relaxed.

“No, no. Not like that,” Reeve said. “Face me.”

Again, I didn’t move, sure I misunderstood somehow. “You said this morning…”

His forehead wrinkled, then comprehension flushed his face. “That was this morning. I’m not doing that now. When I fuck your ass it’ll be for pleasure not punishment.”

I bit my tongue, hard, so that I wouldn’t sigh in relief. But now with the unwanted element removed and the reassurance that I wasn’t losing him, I remembered I was also mad. I circled toward him then sat back on my knees, a pout firmly planted on my lips.

Except then I saw his cock, nearly erect in his palm, and my mouth watered. My mouth watered, and I hated myself for wanting him like this. After he might have been responsible for Missy’s death. After he’d had me followed. After he’d been an asshole with his jealousy and the hair pulling and the sniffing…

God, the sniffing.

Dammit. He was an asshole, and I was turned on.

He leered down at me as he stroked himself slowly. Once. Twice. “Take off your shirt.”

I did as he commanded, tossing it to the floor before sitting back and peering up at him under my lashes. His cock got harder, turning to steel, and the anger in his eyes was diluted with desire.

He took a step toward me, and my lips parted automatically before he even said, “Suck me.”

I wrapped my palm around him and took him in my mouth, pressing my tongue flat along the bottom of his cock as I slid down his length and back. Again, taking even more of him. Once more, moaning as my lips pressed against his flesh.

That was as much as he let me do before he took over. He grasped my head with both hands and moved me up and down over him. Forcefully. So forcefully that I had to hold onto his thighs to keep steady. His fingers dug into my scalp as he pushed me to take more on every glide, until I was taking the whole of him, deep-throating his cock on each descent. Until my face met with his pelvis, my nose pressed against him tightly, and he held me there. Held me still. Held me firm.

Then he let me go. He returned to the aggressive pumping, maneuvering my head over him in long pulses. I was no longer giving a blowjob but had become his fuck doll. His toy to use and defile however he desired.

After several strokes, he held me still again. He bucked his hips up, sealing my face so entirely to his body that my nose was blocked off, his cock crammed so far inside me, I gagged. I pushed at his legs, trying to move him just enough to get a tiny bit of air. He didn’t like that. He continued holding me with one hand, using his other to shove mine off of him. I squirmed, my knees burning as I rubbed against the carpet. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t swallow. Saliva gathered in my mouth, choking me, and my head started spinning. My eyes and chest burned with the effort. I was panicking now, desperate for him to release me, but the more I fought, the tighter he gripped.

It was a message, I realized. Take it. You take what I give. I decide, he was saying. I decide who you see. I decide where you go. I decide if you move. I decide if you breathe.

I got it. I stopped fighting.

He released me. He even let me take a break, catch my breath. For barely a few seconds, though. Then he drove back in.

This time, he allowed himself to enjoy it, no longer proving a point. Holding my head in place, he fucked my mouth. “Like that,” he told me, his voice rough and threadbare. “Just like that.”

His strokes were deep and fast and demanding, but no longer a message. Now he spoke what he wanted me to hear in raspy clipped phrases. “It’s hard to forget about me now. Isn’t it? When I’m balls deep. In your mouth. When I’m throbbing. Against your tongue. When I’m using you. The way you’re made to be used.”

“Mm-hmm,” I moaned against his rod. I was made for exactly this. To please men like him. To please him. I wanted this. Even as his thrusts became erratic and his tip knocked against the back of my throat, I wanted to give. Wanted him to take. Wanted him to use me. Wanted him to see that I did know my place. Wanted him to see that I liked my place.

It excited me even. I was desperate to have him finish. Have him explode in my mouth. I’d swallow it all, lick up every drop knowing it would be a gift. I was wet and aroused in anticipation of sucking him to the very end.

But, just when I was certain he was about to come, he pushed me off of him.