“Earlier you asked me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t ask—”

“Do you still want me to?”

Her eyes dart from side to side as she chews on her lip. She blinks to my already stiff cock and away just as fast. I’m sick for the way I love watching her fight herself. Her thighs squeeze together discreetly. “No.”

“No? You look like you want to come.”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t want to come?”

“If I did, I would do it myself.”

My eyes roll back into my head, and I have to touch my dick to ease the ache. I recognize the grit in my voice for what it is when I respond, “I’d love to see that, Sparrow.”

She frowns. “What?”

I swipe my jeans from where they’re heaped on the floor.

“Can you untie me before you go?” she asks quickly, as though she isn’t sure she’s allowed. I watch her as I step into my pants unhurriedly and pull them up around my hips. “Please?” she adds. I zip them but leave the button undone.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” I say and back up with my eyes locked on her.

She blinks at me adorably as she shifts on her feet, and her shoulders twist, trying to free her hands. I turn to grab the desk chair and set it a few feet from the bed. I fall back in it with an ankle over one knee and sweep my hand out in front of me. “By all means. Do it yourself.”

Tears instantly leak from the corners of her widened eyes. She shakes her head hard, her hair cascading like a chocolate waterfall. I let myself have this moment. Stripped in front of me, I can’t help, don’t want to help, my gaze from scanning every inch of her. She’s leaner than I imagined, or, I wonder, has that happened since she’s come here? Her hair falls long past her shoulders, grazing over the mounds of her breasts so just her pink nipples push through. Her breasts—she’s hidden them well over the years. I’ve fantasized about them beneath the unflattering button-downs she wore in the office. They’re bigger, fleshier than the blouses let on. Her waist sucks in, her hips flare, her tummy is flat and taut. She has a small bush, and I wonder if she’s always kept it that way or just since she’s been here. I wish I’d checked the moment she arrived. I want to know what that pussy looks like completely bared for my mouth. I want to lick her and show her how good it can be, but first I want to shave her.

She’s crying without modesty now, unable to hide her face since her hands are still perfectly secure behind her back. She’s fucking beautiful, especially in her pain, and I want to bury myself in her. My cock up to the hilt, my mouth between her breasts, my hands wound through that mess of overflowing, disobedient hair.

“Dance.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t fight me,” I advise her. “You’ll never win, and you’ll only anger me. Dance for me.”

Her shoulders tremble with silent sobs, but her hips begin to sway. Her hair swishes around her shoulders and teases her nipples. She’s fluid, even when she doesn’t know it, even when she’s not. Her upper torso is stiff, but her hips call to me like a goddamn siren song. My hand is down my pants before I even realize it, my cock in a death grip as I watch. I relax my fist and begin to stroke. “Good, Sparrow. Turn around. Slowly.”

She rocks between both feet as she spins for my viewing pleasure. Her backside is full, maybe even plump compared to her lithe body.

I rub the scruff on my chin as I restrain from going to her. “How many men have you had in your ass?” I ask.

She gasps. “None.”

“Yeah, right,” I tease her. “I don’t believe that.”

“I swear.”

“None of your boyfriends ever tried?”

Her voice drops. “I never had any.”

My heart hammers, my thoughts blurring. “You’re lying.”

“I haven’t,” she insists quietly.

“Keep dancing.”

My command jumpstarts the swing of her hips again. She’s afraid of me. I haven’t truly hurt her, not the way I’m capable of, but she’s afraid. I like her this way, unsure and obedient. Everyone should be afraid of me, and she’s no exception.

Mesmerized, I say, “Now, make yourself come.”

Her movements falter, but she doesn’t stop. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t,” she says. “My hands . . .”

“If you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way.”

Her head bows toward the floor. “I can’t. Not when you’re watching.”

“I have all night,” I say. “The quicker you do it, the better you’ll feel.”

I half expect her to come sit on my lap, but what she does instead is even sexier. She trudges to one of the four posts of the bed and presses herself against it. She looks at me from the corner of her eye and hesitates. “Don’t make me.”

My pants grow tighter in the crotch with every second she’s up against that pole. “Disobeying me is what got you here in the first place. From now on, you do as I say. No backtalk. If I want you kissing my feet as I finger-fuck your asshole, you’ll do it. If I want to feed you nothing but my cock for a week, you’ll do that too.”

I can almost hear her objection, but she just pulls her quivering lip between her teeth. Finally, her hips roll forward, and she drops her head against the post with a sigh.

When she repeats the motion, I ask, “Does it feel good?”

Her response is the mere utter of an exhale.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she snaps. She rises onto the balls of her feet. Her knees bend for a better angle, and I watch her calves shake as she humps the post. Her head falls back so her hair cascades down her back. She turns her neck and gives me a look I’ve never seen. “But you feel better,” she says.

My jaw clenches at the unexpected invitation. She might as well have licked my cock, that’s how hard her words make me. Cataline is sexy without trying, and it occurs to me for the first time that if she tried, she could possibly unravel me. This thought keeps me glued to my seat.

She’s moaning now, but there’s a stilted frustration in the noises she’s making. She steps away from the bed, flushed with desire, all traces of modesty stripped away. Her breasts rise and fall as she struggles onto the mattress. With her teeth, she drags a pillow to the center and lies down on top of it. It’s too much for me, and everything from my torso down tightens as she positions her hips over the pillow. With her first undulation, I know I’m about to come in my pants. Her toes curl, and her pace increases. I’m stroking myself fast, helpless to her show. Her guttural groan, her face shoved into the mattress, her ass flexing with each ripple—it’s my undoing, and I’m spilling shamelessly all over myself, reduced to a teenage boy by this girl without even touching her.

Even after I finish, as my throbbing mellows, my eyes remain riveted on her. When she sits up, frustrated tears spill down her cheeks. “I can’t do it,” she cries. “I’m so close. Please, Calvin. Do it for me.”

Her angelic voice is the devil’s words in my ears. I’d die happy if that were the last thing I ever heard. I could put my hand between her legs and have her coming all over my fingers in seconds. She needs me, and the feeling goes straight to my head. But no matter how many times I remind her, she still thinks she’s in charge. I stand up and swing the chair back into its place.

“I’ll be back to fuck you in the morning,” I say as I leave the room.

She cries out for me, but I just lock the door and head back to my room. I’m asleep in a matter of minutes.

For the first time in years, I wake up groggy. During a normal night, I sleep until I can’t anymore and spend the early-morning hours patrolling. It’s not lost on me that Cataline could be just as bad for me as I am for her.

In the shower, my favorite images of Cataline from the night before filter through my mind. A good night’s rest has done nothing to quell my fierce need to have her. I want her every way I can get. I want my cum to be the first to fill all her holes. I only bother with a towel around my waist before heading to her room. I can’t wait any longer.