Page 6 of Possessive Mechanic
I catch my grip tightening just slightly, but it’s almost as if she’s leaning into it, not trying to get away. Her pupils dilate and she squirms in her seat, and not the way someone being interrogated would do. It’s a different kind of uncomfortable. Not fear… pent-up lust.
My hand moves up and then I take her jaw, cupping her perfect little face. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I’m going to have to do what it takes to get the answer out of you.”
“Why won’t you listen to me?” she huffs, and now it’s clear she really doesn’t know. But that’s not stopping me now.
“I’m going to listen to you alright. Listen to your cries for help go unanswered.”
“No,” she says, expecting violence as she raises her hands up in an ‘X’ in front of her face as she quickly stands, trying to knee me in the balls. But all she’s done is help me as I grab her by the waist, use her momentum against her and spin her as I pivot and spin myself right into the chair, bringing her body down across my lap.
My cock pushes into her stomach and there’s no way in hell she can’t feel the pressure. She should be kicking and screaming, but instead, she stops, her mouth and body going still.
“You’ve never had a man touch you this way. Have you?”
“A real man wouldn’t touch me like this.”
“What would a real man do…little girl?” I ask for shits and giggles.
A long beat passes. “A real man would ask permission before he put his hands on a woman.”
I lean forward, bending at the waist so my mouth is close to the shell of her ear. “You sure a real man wouldn’t just take what he wanted, especially when…it’s exactly what she wants too.”
“You don’t know that. I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. Your body is doing it for you.”
Her pebbled nipples press into my left thigh. “Did not,” she whimpers as weakly as her body’s resistance.
“Now. I’ll ask you again. Anybody ever done this before?” I run my hand across the smooth fabric of her skirt, my eyes rolling back in my head as I trace the contours of her perfect ass with my palm causing her to moan ever so slightly. “Tell me.”
“No,” she says meekly.
“So you’re telling me…no one’s ever done this?” I continue, tracing my way down the back of her legs.
“Nu-uh,” she says, now unable to talk in actual words.
“And let me guess. Your daddy never raised a hand to you and spanked your perfect little apple-bottom ass when you were naughty.”
“My father you mean?”
“Anyone?” I grit out, jealousy filling me at the thought that any other man might have had this perfect ass in his hands like I do now.
“No. Not really.”
“Not really? What the fuck does that mean?”
“My dad never really disciplines me, even when he should. Even when I act up just so he will.”
“So,” I continue. “Like I said. Sometimes a man needs to put his hands on a woman, even when she says she doesn’t want it because in reality she does?”
“I…I’m not answering that question,” she stutters.
“Not answering because you don’t know…or because you do?” My massage of her cheeks intensifies as she presses her hips up so her flesh has more force against my hands.
“It…It depends on who,” she clarifies.
“Just like it depends on who sent you here and why?” I try yet again. Before she can respond I go for broke, raising my hand in the air and swiftly bringing it down on her perfect right globe, smacking her not to hurt her but to let her know her b.s. won’t be tolerated around me. Not now. Not ever.
“Uh,” she whimpers out of pain, but the noise she makes is clearly laced with lust too. And as I massage that half of her ass her whimpers only intensify.