Page 20 of The Guru: Shadow

“Look at me,” he breathed out. He couldn’t help it. He had to see, feel, her eyes looking up at him again.

She didn’t react immediately, sure she sensed what he wanted, because when she did as she was told, she moved her head ever so slowly, deliberately, her eyes still on the floor until the very last moment. She took her time to stall him, make him burst from the heat of desire.

And then her eyes flashed up at him.

Holy fuck!

The way she stared, the intensity of it, the way she let her head fall back a bit further – she knew exactly what she was doing. And she didn’t do it out of fear, or because she fancied him. No. She wanted it.The game. The play.

He could see all the longing in her eyes, the challenge, even the provocation in them. It was controlling and devouring at the same time as the ocean of darkness he so craved to reveal stared at him.

“So beautiful,” he said quietly, while he reached for her chin. He pressed his thumb onto her bottom lip and slowly wiped over it, smearing her lipstick over the edge.

He wanted to shove his hard cock into that perfect mouth of hers, feel her throat burst from his length and girth, see her cry from the pain – so hard it made her black mascara smudge.

And then he felt how control slipped from his fingers as images visualized in front of his inner eye. Images of her becoming unconscious from the scarcity of airwhile he choked her with his cock and his hand around her throat. He could take her right here and now.

I must control them. I must, or she will be prey.

But she didn’t let him get back in control.

Instead, she stretched out her tongue and swirled it around his thumb, inviting it into her mouth.

Fuck.

She sucked in his thumb, giving him the perfect taste of what she would do to his cock, playing him as much as he was playing her.

He could see his cock being sucked by that beautiful mess of perfection kneeling in front of him. How he hit hard into her throat, again and again and again, while his hands wandered down and choked her until her body would collapse. And as the sensation on his thumb heightened, he couldn’t differentiate between reality and fantasy anymore.

Fuck. Control.

“Stop,” he whispered with his last strength, and he grabbed her face and pulled her up.

He could immediately see the hurt of rejection in her eyes, she was trying to get away from his grip. But he wouldn’t let her.

So, her fear is rejection. That will make it even more interesting.

There she was again, the sweet, insecure little girl who longed so much for acknowledgment and praise.

“It’s not about you,” he told her while forcing her to look at him.

“Yeah, they all say that to comfort me, but truth is, it’s always about me and they just say it to calm their conscience.”

Brutally honest. I like it.

“I am not one of them.”

“Right now, you are, whatever you tell yourself.”

“I don’t want to destroy you, so it’s not ayou, but amething.”

He observed every one of her reactions. Reading people was his most favorite thing in the whole world.

Is she going to get watery from the pain of rejection?

Or is she going to drive me out?

Or strike back?