Page 19 of Text Me, Take Me

Evie: Are you going to just tell me about it… or come down here and do it?

CHAPTER 7

DOM

My hand wraps around my stiffness as I stare at her message. At her challenge.

There’s a lifetime of hunger flowing through me. I’m aware this could be a trick, a way to get me down there in another bid to escape.

But as I stroke my cock, all I can think about are her gorgeous features, her wide, excited eyes, the curve of her breasts, hips, and supple ass.

Evie: Dom? It’s not polite to leave a girl hanging.

Dom: I know what you’re doing.

I type, then delete.

Dom: I know this is a trick.

I type, then delete.

Dom: I know you’re going to try to escape.

I type… deleting the message again. Standing, I release a shuddering breath. I’ve never been a man who thinks with my cock.

Instead of replying, I throw on a pair of shorts and walk through the large house to the garage. I move my car back a few feet to make room for the trapdoor, knowing I should stop.

This. Is. Wrong.

Why can’t I get that through my head?

Walking down the stairs, my cock doesn’t wilt, not even for a second. The fantasy of Evie is too vibrant in my thoughts. The memory of her wetness makes me ache all over. I’m salivating at the thought of her.

She must’ve heard the trapdoor. Seated on the couch, she eagerly expects my arrival with her legs tucked up beneath her, her nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt. She’s unbraided her hair, letting it fall wildly around her shoulders.

Her eyebrows rise in a challenge.

I know what game you’re playing.I think about voicing, but that would destroy the illusion.

She stands, her breasts bouncing beneath the shirt, the movement obvious by her hard nipples. Her expression is the same as in the interview, sassiness laced with nerves. In this context, it makes me even harder.

I rush across the room and sink my hands greedily into her hips. I refuse to believe her gasping moan is forced. When I kiss her and she responds with passion, I know it’s real. Her tongue finds mine and we collapse onto the couch.

Kissing passionately, I drive my crotch against hers, my manhood pushing through my shorts. I can feel her sex through our clothes. She grinds against me, her hands moving over my back.

I glide my hand up her leg and slip my touch down towards her underwear, but then she pulls away.

“I want to make you feel good,” she moans.

My heart pounds hard in my chest, my lust making my manhood feel like it could explode, as I try to watch her carefully for any signs of escape. She could make a break for it at any moment.

She rubs me over my shorts, her eyes fixed on me, biting her lip like she did in the interview. “You feel so fucking horny,” she says. “So… hard.”

The hitch in her voice hints at her inexperience. Her cheeks are even more flushed than they were in the interview.

“Wait,” I groan. “Evie.”

She pouts. “What if I don’t want to wait?”

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