Page 84 of The Darkest Hour
Havoc was silent, yet his presence still loomed.
I could hear the faint rustle of leaves under his feet as he shifted his weight, probably trying to get a better grip on his cock.
Was he stroking it as he watched me squat with my pussy exposed to him?
Was he rubbing the tip?
Did pre-cum already spill to his fingers?
How much was he enjoying this?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the reality of what I was about to do.
My body went tense, every muscle coiled tight, but there was no escape. I had to go, and he wasn’t going to let me do it in peace.
There was no room for pride here.
Not anymore.
Damn it.
The first stream of urine came hesitantly, a small trickle that seemed almost too quiet in the gentle noise of the forest.
But as soon as it hit the leaves and the dirt below me, Havoc loudly groaned.
My breath hitched.
I opened my eyes.
Sicko.
Havoc had his cock out. It was large and erect, glistening with pre-cum in the faint light filtering through the trees.
And I didn’t want to admit it, but. . .I fucking enjoyed the sight. Loved that the simple act of my urinating was turning him on.
Once again, Havoc’s groan cut through the forest like a sharp blade. “Oh God, yes.”
My breathing sped up, but it wasn’t just from embarrassment or shame. No, there was something else there, something darker and more unsettling that pulsed just beneath the surface.
His intense gaze was on me, taking in every second.
Every drop.
Looking at the stream of urine leaving my body as if it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.
His own breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling with a barely restrained hunger.
And the more I watched him, the more I could see the rugged, fiery desire etched into every line of his face, in the way his lips parted and his pupils dilated in the moonlight.
This is really turning him on.
There was something twistedly exhilarating about it, a realization that sent a shiver down my spine. Here I was, forced into a position that should have left me feeling utterly powerless, and yet. . .it didn’t.
Not entirely.
I had made him groan.
Made him lose that iron grip of control he always seemed to have.