I don’t have a good sense of how thick the walls are, and I can’t assume I have total privacy.
Then there’s a quick knock on my door.
Without waiting for an answer, a shadow of a man enters and closes the door behind him.
29
Show me
“Don’t stop on my account,” Marcos says.
“What are you doing in here?” I hiss, keeping my voice low while I pull my hand out of my underwear and tug the covers up to my chest.
He leans against the dresser as if we’re having a casual conversation. “I was passing by and I heard you.”
“You didn’t hear me inviting you in,” I say.
“I want to hear you again. Carry on.” He lifts his chin, gesturing to my midsection.
I wonder if his eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see my angry glare.
“Pull down the blanket, Becca. I want to watch you get yourself off.”
I’m reminded of how I made Khalil masturbate for me, but that was playful, and this feels like an order.
“Go on,” he says, his voice taking on a harder edge. “I think you’ll find that you like me watching.”
I’m on the verge of jumping out of bed and shoving him out the door, but a new flood of moisture at my center alerts me to the fact that I’m excited by what he’s proposing. Or rather, what he’s demanding.
When I push down the blanket, he says, “Take your top off.”
My sleep set is a stretchy tank top and shorts. I ignore him and scoot back to lean against the headboard, staring at him defiantly.
“Don’t play games with me, Becca. You know you want to get off. You need to get off.”
He’s not wrong.
His voice shifts to a smooth, persuasive tone, and somehow, that’s all I need. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
I slide my hand down once again, slowly this time. I leave my top in place, but take note of how my nipples are poking against the thin fabric.
“Good girl,” he says, and under normal circumstances, I’d object to being praised like an obedient child, but for now, I decide to go with it.
My fingers find my clit under my clothing and stroke. I do it again, letting my head fall back against the headboard, my eyes closing.
Another order comes in the dark. “Take off your shorts.”
Eyes still closed, mind turning this into fantasy, I comply, pushing the fabric off of my hips and sliding it down my legs, purposely keeping my underwear on just to hear his next command.
“Now your panties. Show me your pussy.”
I dip back into my wetness and stroke my clit, sighing, ignoring him just to find out what happens.
“Panties off now.” The hard edge is back, and it stirs something deep inside me.
Lifting my hips off the bed, I pull the scrap of silky fabric down, wondering if he can see the wetness glistening between my legs. Once my bottom half is naked, I let my knees fall to the sides, spreading myself open for him, tracing paths through my folds with my finger, imagining that his eyes are following my every movement.
“Good girl. Show me how you get yourself off.”
I return to my clit, circling the hardened nub for a long time before stroking over it. I start to pretend Marcos isn’t there, but quickly realize it feels so much better when I think about him watching.
Experimentally, I open my eyes and find his riveted to the spot where my hand is stroking my pussy. I also see that a bulge has grown in his shorts, and I get wetter still, thinking about him getting naked and climbing into bed with me. I’m sure he will after he watches me come.
Fueled by that thought, an orgasm comes racing forward, building quickly, gathering sensation into a tightly wound ball until it explodes into a glorious starburst, temporarily obliterating everything as I float through space in pure ecstasy.
When I come back to reality, Marcos is still watching, a hint of a grin curving one corner of his mouth.
“How was it?” he asks, though I’m sure he knows the answer. My body is still pulsing with small aftershocks, and my chest is rising and falling heavily.
I stare into his eyes, willing him to come to me. When he steps forward, I let out a sigh, anticipating his touch.
Instead of joining me in the bed, he simply lifts my arm, bringing my hand to his lips. His eyes meet mine and he takes my finger into his mouth, the same finger that soaked in my juices as it brought me to orgasm.
He sucks the finger clean, releases it, and leaves my room.
30
Pure exhilaration
I regret my decision to go to Smith’s Farm as soon as I climb into the truck with the four men. It’s a big truck, but the men are big too, so I’m squeezed in the backseat between Marcos and Khalil, trying not to think about their bodies that are pressed against mine. It’s an impossible feat.