I definitely want to. My dick tents this towel so much it’s a wonder it stayed on–the towel, not my dick. But fucking a girl who is bound and my prisoner isn’t something I can bring myself to do.
If I did that, I’d be the same as Leon Poval and all his asshole clients and compatriots. I’d be the same as the horrible men who used and abused my sister while she was being held against her will as a sex slave in the basement of the sofa factory awaiting a long-term bidder.
And that thought makes me sick.
Even though it seems pretty consensual, even though I know Kat enjoyed her spanking, there’s no way I’m fucking her.
“What in the hell are you doing, Russian?” she spits at me.
She’s pissed, and I get it. I suppose I just did the equivalent of a cocktease to her. Left her blue-clitted or whatever.
“Don’t you walk away. Are you taking pictures?” she screams.
I wasn’t going to, but it’s not a bad idea. “Your father will like this one,” I say, finding my phone on the counter and holding it up. It really is a great shot with her reddened ass and the extremely degrading position.
“Don’t you dare. Okay, then–” She flips her wet hair over her shoulder and ruins the photo by giving me a giant toothy smile. “Go ahead,” she says without moving her lips. “What’s wrong?”
She drops her hips to one side, contorting to roll to her back, where she opens her legs in a wide split and sticks her tongue out like she’s posing for a porn shot. She sings some song about how she could be whatever color I like.
I shake my head. “Crazy fucking girl.”
She sings more of the lyrics, pumping her hips and tossing her head about like she’s in a music video, not tied to my bed.
“What is that? What are you doing?” There’s something vaguely familiar about it, but I honestly don’t know what’s going on.
“Where have you been? It’s “Grace Kelly,” by Mika. You’ve seen the Grace Kelly challenge?” She sings some more of the song.
“What?”
She’s doing crazy spread eagles and crisscrosses with her legs like a wild siren tempting me into the sea of blankets. “On Tiktok.”
Tiktok. She’s nuts.
I set the phone down and ignore her, going to the suitcase to find dry clothes to wear. I pull on a pair of boxer briefs, then my jeans.
She finishes the song then starts up again, except only repeating the one stanza over and over at different pitches.
It’s maddening. Adorably bratty. I keep ignoring her.
Eventually she stops singing. She must realize I’m not coming back because she says, “I hate you, Adrian Turgenev. You are total shit. Seriously. I’m going to start screaming.”
I turn and point a warning finger, not getting a chance to zip my jeans.
She glares at me and sucks in a lungful of air. She’s giving me time to stop her. She wants me back over there. “Hel–”
I vault onto the bed and clap a hand over her mouth when she screams. My body’s covering hers. She’s naked from the waist down, the scent of her arousal tickling my senses.
There’s both triumph and fear in her gaze.
The need to soothe her, to turn this into something sexual, to make it completely distinct from what my sister suffered makes me purr, “What’s the matter? I get that pussy all hot and wet, and now it feels too empty?”
Her bright blue eyes lock onto mine. I see vulnerability and desire in them. It’s the vulnerability that guts me.
“Listen to me.” I ease back and slowly move my hand from her mouth. “I’m getting my knife. Don’t move. Don’t make a fucking sound.”
She holds her breath, watching me retrieve my knife from my wet jeans and return to her. I cut the zip tie holding her to the bed. Her wrists are still clasped, but she can move around if she wants.
“If you want something from me, you come and get it. I’m not like your father. I don’t take from women when they have no choice.”
To make sure I’m not influencing her, I walk away, grabbing a pair of socks from my suitcase and sitting on a chair to put them on.
Kat watches me with a sulky glare.
I affect a natural stance. I’m ready if she tries to run for it, but I doubt she will. The sexual charge between us is electric. Intoxicating.
She flounces over to me. She has the air of a child who’s been made to apologize for something they don’t think they did wrong.
I make it easier for her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to sit on my lap, cupping her mons with my free hand. Her pussy is wet and swollen and my middle finger sinks inside her without me even seeking entrance.