Page 121 of Coerced Kiss

“You bet. And yes, I’m going to be your god. You’re going to worship every inch of my cock when I come inside you.”

Hooking my finger into the elastic of her thong on the side, I pull the triangle covering her pussy away. “Are you wet for me?”

I don’t wait for her answer. I slip a finger inside her and find out for myself.

Yes, goddamn.

Gripping the root of my cock, I position the crest at her slit. I love how her lips part as I push in gently. I don’t stop until she’s taken everything. I’d love to fuck her at my leisure, but there’s only one bathroom. Someone may pound on the door any second.

She stares down at me, those pretty eyes hazy with desire as she clings to my shoulders. I lock one hand on her hip and brush the other between our bodies to rub her clit. There’s no time to bring her gradually to the edge. When I thrust, I thrust in earnest, my aim getting us both over the finish line quickly.

She leans back her head and moans. I revel in the thought that only I can do this for her. Only she can do this to me. No one else. That’s what I always wanted. Someone who belongs to me. To me alone. A beautiful, innocent treasure to corrupt and worship.

“Sav, please.”

I pull out and slide back in, making sure I don’t hit too deep or too hard. Over and over. Until her scream nearly lifts the roof. Slamming a hand over her mouth, I beat out a rhythm inside herbody, one that drives both of us wild. She digs her nails into my shoulders through my shirt, holding on as I shove one final time. When her inner muscles clench on my cock, I let go.

Fuck.

The release is crippling.

Time comes to a standstill.

Like a fucking cliché, someone bangs on the door.

I let them knock. Take my time to finish. I kiss her through her aftershocks that milk my cock dry, not caring that the insistent hammering on the door gets louder.

I only tear my lips from hers when she goes completely slack in my arms.

“Okay?” I ask.

She bites her lip and nods.

I offer her a smile. “Ready?”

She makes a sound of agreement.

“Stay,” I say, already missing her heat when I pull out.

I adjust my clothes and grab a stash of paper towels to clean her. Then I lift her to her feet and straighten her dress before making quick work of washing my hands. Wrapping my fingers around hers, I hold her behind me to block her with my body in case she’s shy about what we did. Whoever is waiting for a piss on the other side will definitely know what went down by the state of her creased dress and the scent of sex that hangs in the room.

I unlock the door and open it.

The guy on the other end wears a sour look. “About time.”

I don’t spare him a second glance, but when I look over my shoulder at Anya, she’s averted her gaze. She follows me quietly back to our table.

The food arrived while we were busy.

I guess now Rusty and everyone in the kitchen know we had a go at it in the bathroom. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. That’s whatI wanted, for people to believe we’re the real deal. It doesn’t get more real than this.

And in that lies the problem.

Anya was always supposed to be a toy. A possession. Someone I could fuck without messy feelings getting in the way.

But she’s fast becoming a lot more than that.

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