Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,85
while I wait for him to do something.
Anything.
But he does nothing.
He’s barely even inside me.
He doesn’t move an inch.
I groan in frustration when it becomes clear he has no intention of doing anything at all.
He wants me to do it.
So I do. I push back against him as much as possible, feeling him stretch me.
Then he grabs hold of my arms, gun still mostly in one hand, crosses them over my back, wrist to elbow. He uses one free hand to hold them there.
I can’t move an inch.
“How am I supposed to do it if you won’t let me?” I grit out.
He pulls almost all the way out and then slides in slowly.
So slowly I clench my teeth.
I feel every single inch of him as my body makes space.
There’s nothing I can do to stop the cries and whimpers, to hide my frustration.
“You don’t,” he says as soon as he’s settled all the way in. “You lie there with a pussy full of my cock and you beg me to let you come.”
His arrogance is astounding.
I say nothing.
And he does it again.
Slowly.
And again.
Even slower.
Inch by hellish inch.
All the way to the hilt.
It’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world.
I’m moaning, but I don’t even mean to. It’s like being tickled, yes you will laugh, but inside you just want to die. Inside, it’s torture.
“Someone,” he begins. “Anyone could walk around that corner and I’d have to shoot them. All because you’re too stubborn to beg for what we both know you want.”
Well, yes. But if I start begging we both know I’ll lose. He hasn’t specifically said that, but he doesn’t need to. He never fully explains his games. I just have to guess.
I try to push back against him as the head of his cock sits motionless at my entrance, but he just digs my arms in farther.
“Stop that,” he says, slamming into me viciously as if to drive home the point.
I let out a moan which turns into a whimper the moment I realize he’s not going to do it again.
“Where are those morals of yours now, sweet girl?” he asks as he inches his way in again. “Just tell me you want me. Tell me you need me. We both know it’s not a lie.”
“You’re the one who wants me,” I grit out.
He barks out a laugh and slams into me again, but it’s not enough.
“I’m not ashamed to admit that,” he says. “What is there to be ashamed about? I want to own you completely. Every inch of you, inside and out.”
He pulls out and I feel empty.
“I want to control every aspect of your life. I want to be the only thought that ever crosses your mind.” He enters me again, and this time lowers his weight until my hips buckle and I’m flat against the carpet. “Am I supposed to be ashamed of that?”
“I’m a person,” I tell him, hoping that conveys my answer.
He arches his back in order to get closer to my ear and leans in, lowering his voice. “But haven’t you ever wondered if perhaps that is overrated?”
Maybe. Yes. The thought that maybe it would be easier to give up and become the little doll he wants so badly has crossed my mind. “No.”
He grinds against me painfully slowly, stiffening his body until I can barely breathe. “Then we will play my games until you change your mind. And perhaps long after, too. Because I’m never giving you up, sweet girl. Now beg me to give you what you need.”
His hand slips out from between us, but I can’t get my arms free before he presses his full weight against them. The hand slips down between my legs, fingers rubbing against my clit while the heel pushes against the lowest part of my stomach.
My insides contract as he picks up speed, and I try to resist it because I know the moment I let it build is the same moment he’s going to stop.
He’s not going to let me come until I beg for it.
“Fine,” I whisper, barely able to breathe. “Fine, you win.”
He pulls out and flips me over onto my back.
“I win the game? Or you?”
I stare up at the faceless face, finding myself liking it. “The game. You want me to beg, then I’ll beg.”
“Then do it,” he says.
So I do.
“Louder.”
I say it louder.
“Scream it,” he taunts.
Is nothing ever good enough? I push against him, using my feet against his thighs to scramble away. I already