Page 160 of Under the Bed

“All right, then.” The thick mascara she applied accentuates the depths of her eyes. They’re fathomless.

I could spend a lifetime staring at those.

Shiloh won’t let me. Shiloh’s demanding that I look elsewhere by sliding a finger up the collar of her shirt. Slowly, she’s grazing the fabric. Tugging it down.

My cock has never been harder. Still doesn’t mean I’ll let her win. I press a hand to my thigh, running it higher and higher. Her eyes follow the movement.

Her cheeks burn red when I adjust the bulge in my jeans, her lips rounding into the shape of an O.

And I’m losing at my own game. Can’t stop thinking about shoving my fat cock in her mouth. Down her throat. Fucking can’t.

My brain is fried. That’s what it feels like. That’s what this need is. Complete destruction of my senses. Of my ability to control the situation.

“You’ve grown quiet,” she purrs, the sound reaching straight to my balls. “It’s counterproductive, you know, keeping things bottled up inside. Since you’re here, I’ll help you out with it. I’ll start, then, hopefully, it’ll be easier for you to share.”

Helping me in any capacity would be having her down on her knees. Between my legs. Sucking me off.

I say nothing.

“So, you and her were intimate last night. Am I right?”

The understatement of the century. I defiled you, brat, and I’ll do it a million times more.

I shrug.

“Could she tell you’d been stalking her? Was she expecting you?” Her finger slides along her collarbone. Going up, until her hand is on her chin, rubbing it seductively. Teasing her bottom lip.

The effort she puts into winning this game is going to be the death of me. She’s pushing my buttons. Begging to be punished.

She will.

She’ll live to regret it.

Despite the frustration of losing this game, I’m eager to see where she takes this.

Another nod.

“Hmm. As the late Professor Dempsey said yesterday, it’s reassuring.” Her smirk stretches as her index finger rises to tease the area below her bottom lip. My cock jerks. “Hearing your relationship is consensual. You must have given her a heads-up. And since she agreed, she must’ve been wanting it for years. I assume she was…How do I phrase this? Professionally speaking?”

My clothes are too tight. My mask is suffocating me.

Get a fucking grip. You can’t fuck her here. Can’t end this game so soon.

I taste blood on my tongue. My teeth latch violently to my bottom lip to silence my frustrated groan.

To hell with my most basic desires. I’ll beat her pretty, tight pussy with my cock later.

“Naked.” Shiloh makes the word sound so vulgar. So crude. I’m speechless. Starving for what’ll come out of her filthy mouth next. “She must’ve been out of her mind by the time you showed up. The anticipation. After years of saving herself, I bet she was already lying in bed when you showed up. No clothes on. Legs spread.”

If Douchebag Dempsey were still alive, he would react.

He’d either scold her again or bend her over right here in front of everyone. He’d have turned into an animal.

He’d try, at least. Before I’d have both my thumbs up in his eye sockets to pop them out.

Alas, he’s in the morgue and Eddy is here.

Eddy had a very good idea of who I was when I showed up today. The real me. Earlier today, he couldn’t stitch two words together. While he was working on his laptop in his ten-by-ten office, I stomped in. Cast my long shadow over the miserable bastard.

---