Page 61 of Swallow Your Sorries

“But I’m already in one,” she mutters softly to herself.

“It’s sad you think this is nightmarish. It’s just the start. But it’s all worth it, isn’t it? For your dream.”

She gazes back at the sprawling campus, her long, red eyelashes, three shades darker and webbed with water droplets from unshed tears.

“All you care about is humiliating me, right? By seeing me naked?”

“You think that’s humiliating?”

“Why else would you want me to strip?”

My little dove is so very naïve.

I say nothing and her brows crease in frustration as time ticks on.

“If I take off my clothes, will you let me go?”

“I’ll consider it.”

She sighs. “Please—”

“That’s right.” I roll my eyes closed for one brief second, lavishing in the sweet sound of her begging. “No more words. Just whimpers. Just pleas.”

She shuts her mouth not because she’s following orders but because she’s fighting them.

Does she think her silence, and brash movements to pull off her blazer in the most unsexy fashion she can muster, will turn me off? I’m already on, and her reddening lips from how hard she’s biting them only add to my arousal. Would they get that red when she’s sucking on my cock? I wish she’d lick them and wet them so I could get a better visual.

“Slower,” I order when she drops the crusty blazer and reaches for the buttons on her shirt. “There’s no rush. No one’s looking for you. No one’s coming.”

She momentarily slows down as the words sink in before she moves quickly again.

“I saidslow down, or I’ll tie your hands with that blazer and do it myself.”

Clenching her jaw, she obliges, exposing a plain cotton bra. The kind that can never support more than A cups. She must be a double D at least. I trace the deep crease between them that slopes gently downward with their weight. Her nipples beneath the thin fabric are already hardening from the gentle breeze blowing across the lake.

As she sits up on her knees to unhook her skirt, I’m in complete awe when the fabric pools around her. I’ve never seen more atrocious panties in my life and yet, I’ve never been drawn to a pair more than I am now. Despite the excess fabric around her waist, her ass is still devouring the bottom as is her slit, that’s stretching the crotch tight. Is that why they’re so ill-fitting? Because her legs are too thick to go a size down to accommodate her waist? Or is it a money thing?

I reach out to run my finger along the sagging waistline, and her hand flies out to stop me. It doesn’t. It just comes along for the ride uselessly as I skim her hairless sex and the stretched-out elastic band.

“Why do you wear these? It barely covers your pussy.”

Her nails dig into my wrists so hard, I’m sure she’s broken the skin.

“I don’t want to ruin the good ones. Haven’t you heard of period panties? Go any lower and you’ll—”

“Deep dive into your blood? Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Of course not,” she snarks. “I know how fond you are of bodily fluids.”

“Especially when they’re on you. Soaking you.”

But there is no blood. We both know that. Still, I don’t want her to know that we share a phone now and that I’m tracking her periods too. So I leave her with her invisible pad or tampon and run my fingers up the curve of her thigh, settling the tips in that deep crease where her thigh meets her hip.

“Take off the bra.”

She wants to protest. She wants to peel my fingers from her flesh, but she doesn’t. Where they’re resting is the best she could hope for.

In one fell swoop, she rolls it over her head and leaves it balled in her white-knuckled fist.

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