Blackmailed by Her Bully

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“What I should have done all those years ago. I mean, after all, I did back away before it went too far, but you still went screaming.”

“Logan?” He continued to accuse her of something she hadn’t done.

“Shut up!” The tips of his fingers traced up her body. He moved past her pussy, going up to her tits. He caressed over them, over each tight nipple, then back down again. Each time, she expected him to go for her pussy, but he didn’t. He was the master of control.

Always one step ahead of her.

“Do you know it is harder for a man to see when a woman is aroused?” he asked.

She didn’t respond.

“For a guy, everyone knows. A nice, hard dick. It’s hard to hide.” He chuckled. “Get it, hard to hide.”

“I get it.”

“But a woman. Unless you touch her pussy, for the inexperienced, it’s not that easy, but for me, you see, I know women. I’ve studied them. This little flush on their skin. So easy to believe it’s the result of a blush and not the evidence of a very aroused woman.” He went to her nipples. “The air isn’t cold. It’s nice and warm in here. I made sure of it, and these hard nipples, another sign. Again, a woman can claim to be cold. I know you’re not cold. I feel how warm you are.”

“You have me naked, Logan.”

“Do not try to pretend you’re cold. I know you’re aroused by me.” His hand cupped her pussy, and he plunged two fingers inside her. “The evidence is right here. Soaking wet, tight, and ready for a nice, hard cock. You want to keep on fighting and claiming you’re a sweet, little innocent woman, go ahead. I know you’re getting off on what is happening here. You have no control over what happens here, whereas I have all of it. Every single scrap.”

In and out he pushed his fingers inside her, working her pussy.

She closed her eyes, and he pinched her clit, making her open them.

“I didn’t give you permission to close them. You keep those beauties on me at all times, understood?”

“Logan?”

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He was the one in charge.

Staring into his brown eyes, she waited, expecting him to hurt her, but all he did was play with her pussy, preparing her, getting her nice and wet. He drew her to the peak, to the edge of arousal, making her stay at the precipice, not letting her push over, keeping her precariously there, waiting, expecting, and when she thought he was going to let her come, he took a step back.

She watched as he licked his fingers, the evidence of her arousal glistening on his hand.

“Go to bed. Hunter will show you the way.”

“But?”

“You think you deserve an orgasm? Nah, you’re not going to get one that easy. You’re going to earn it. Now, get the fuck upstairs, and don’t even think of getting your clothes. You’re not wearing them. Consider it another privilege you need to earn.”

He took a step away from her, and she watched him go to his liquor.

“Logan, can’t we talk?”

“No. No more talking. You seem to think you’re the one with the power here. You’re here to do as I wish, unless you want this to go viral by the end of the day.”

She left the office and looked at Hunter, who smirked. She didn’t want to cover herself, but it took every single ounce of strength not to. She would make Logan pay. He would see how wrong he’d gotten this, and when he did, he’d be fucking sorry. Very sorry.

****

The following morning, Logan stood outside on his back porch, staring at the perfect garden once again. Only this time, it was light and he got to see just how perfect everything was. He hated it, but he wouldn’t have anyone do anything to it. Not yet, not ever, probably.

He wanted it to overgrow, to be surrounded by mess.

His parents had once demanded perfection, and he’d been a huge disappointment to them, or at least he thought he had until they had squandered their fortune trying to help him. They’d wanted to prove his innocence, but all the judge had wanted to do was to lock his ass up. He’d been painted as an entitled little rich boy who was used to getting what he wanted. When his parents died, they’d done so, broke. The Stanford Legacy had been shattered. They’d died while he’d been in prison. They hadn’t seen the man he’d turned into, but then, he imagined they would be disappointed after all. He wasn’t a model citizen, not anymore.

Stepping out onto the lawn, he looked up at the French windows that were open. He saw her. She was wide awake, using the curtain around her to try to hide her nakedness.