Page 22 of Her Cruel Empire
And then she pulls up that trashy dress and peels off the world she came from, revealing the goddess underneath. A goddess in simple white cotton underwear that is sexier than any lace frippery could possibly be. She takes off the bra next. And then, at last, the panties.
By the time she’s naked, my mouth has gone dry.
Christ. She’s perfect. Soft and luscious, strawberry blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, the color perfectly matched by the curls between ample thighs. She’s…she’sreal.Real in a way that makes every other woman I’ve ever looked at feel like a pale imitation.
I clear my throat. “Lie down.” I gesture to the thick rug before the fireplace.
She sinks down, curling up on herself, and I have to grip my wine glass tighter to keep from reaching for her immediately. The firelight plays across her skin, adorning her in shades of gold and brandy. She’s art. She’s sin. She’smine.
“Lie down. On your back.”
She seems to have to force herself to let go of her knees, let her legs straighten out, and then rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. But I don’t want her so stiff. I give her a few moments until the warmth from the fire and the dreamy softness of the rug do their work, and I see her muscles relax.
“You’re very beautiful, Robin,” I say softly. She makes a face, a scoffing expression that I catch before she wipes it away. “You don’t believe it?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Touch yourself.”
Robin’s cheeks flush, but her hand drifts down. And I want to see what she likes, how she pleasures herself when no one’s watching.
“Show me,” I murmur, settling deeper into my chair. “Show me what you do when you’re alone in bed, or in the shower, thinking about the things that make your sweet little clit throb. And take your time, little bird. We have all the time in the world. I want you dripping for me.”
She’s clearly unused to displaying herself so intimately, so it takes a while for her to relax once more. But eventually her fingers begin to find the places that make her breath catch.She’s giving away her secrets, and the intimacy of it, the hint of unwilling reveal, sends sparks through me. It’s that heady sensation of conquest. Dominion.
Power.
“Slower,” I tell her, watching as her back arches slightly. “And open your legs. I want to see everything.”
She follows my guidance, her breathing growing shallow as her touches become more deliberate. The soft sounds she makes, little gasps and whimpers, are genuine, unperformed. This is not a show for my benefit. Or at least, not entirely. I can see her pink cunt glistening as she moves.
“Circle higher,” I suggest, and watch as she adjusts her technique. “Now press down…yes, like that.”
Her eyes flutter closed, lost in sensation. ButIwant her attention.
“Look at me,” I command, and her gaze snaps to mine.
She’s close now—I can see it in the flush spreading across her chest, in the way her breathing has turned ragged. And every muscle in my own body is coiled tight too as I watch her spiral toward the edge.
But I’m not ready for this to end.
“Stop.”
Robin’s hand freezes, her body trembling with need. The frustrated whimper that escapes her throat is music to my ears.
I stand and walk to where she lies sprawled on the rug. Looking down, I let my gaze caress her where my fingers want to follow, and enjoy the way she shivers under my view.
“Your pleasure belongs to me now,” I tell her. “I decide when you receive it. I decide how much. I decide everything.”
Her eyes are dark with need and confusion, but she nods. A quick learner.
I wonder if she has any idea how badly I want to taste her. She’s beautiful, desperate, and completely at my mercy.
I return to my chair and take up my wine glass again.
Then I slide off my shoe and extend my foot slowly, placing my toes directly over her slippery folds. “You’re mine, little bird.”
I curl my toes, just slightly, and Robin gives a soft, shuddering sigh.
