Bending her over, pulling off her clothes, claiming every inch of her as mine. I’ve spent years picturing the way it would feel to make her scream my name, to make her desperate for my touch, my cock, my cum.
And it will happen. She will beg for it.
There’s a reason I rescued her from those men all those years ago. It’s because I had plans for her, even then.
Plans that I tell myself are entirely about revenge. Plans to use her.
I tell myself that because deep down part of me is worried about how much I want this woman.
“Bra next,” I tell her, circling her slowly.
She doesn’t hesitate. Keeps her eyes on mine as she reaches back to unclasp it. She lets it fall down her arms, and I take in the smooth cups of her perfect C tits. Her nipples are pert, already hardening pink nubs in the chilly air of this room. I want to feel those tits in my hands. Want to squeeze them in my palms, hear her gasp. I want to tease those nipples, roll them between my thumb and forefinger until she can’t stand it anymore, and then I want to pinch so hard she screams.
Instead, I keep walking around her slowly, enjoying the wait. Goosebumps rise on her arms, her naked torso, and she’s shivering slightly, though I can tell she’s trying to hide it from me.
As if I can’t tell. As if I can’t read everything she’s thinking. She’s an open book, Pamona Badiary, and I enjoy a good slow read of her.
“Now your panties,” I say.
She hesitates.
“Pamona,” I add, putting a heavy warning into my voice.
She hooks a thumb under her panties. Pauses again, her chest heaving. I’m standing behind her now, close enough to touch, though I don’t. Not yet.
“Don’t be shy,” I add, smirking. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
At that, anger seems to flare in her. She shoves the panties down to her knees. Steps out of them, angry even in her obedience. “You’re a monster,” she spits.
I laugh, softly. “It’s easier if you hate me, I know.”
Her ass is facing me, bare and firm and exactly how I pictured it when I first saw her sashaying down the sidewalk years ago. The perfect ass for grabbing onto while I fuck her, bent over this sofa.
My cock, already hard from the limo ride here, from the way she felt pressed against me in the car, jumps against my jeans. I can’t remember the last time I felt this turned on. But I am patient. I have waited long enough for this. I can wait as long as I need to now.
“I know my father has his faults,” she says, and I circle back around to meet her eye.
The view from the front is every inch as maddening as her backside. Her smooth, flat stomach leads down to a clean-shaven mound, and beneath, her tight pussy lips, half-hidden by her thighs, which she keeps squeezed closed. “But you’re worse.”
“You wouldn’t know the half of it,” I respond, shaking my head.
“Wouldn’t I?” She lifts her chin, glaring straight into my eyes. “Getting even with my father by raping me is pure evil.”
I step closer and cup her chin in my hand. Hold her there, our eyes locked, as I breathe in her scent. Fuck. She smells as good as she looks, and I’ll bet she tastes even better. It’s making me dizzy and horny as hell—I want to shove her down and take her, right here, right now.
But no. I have more control than that.
“Pamona,” I say, drawing her name out so that I’m sure I have her attention. “I am not going to rape you.”
Her anger breaks, just for a second, and a flash of confusion crosses her face instead.
“I would never take you against your will,” I add. The confusion spreads. But I notice, underneath that, the way her eyes dilate, and her lips part, breathing faster. I steal a glance at her chest, notice her still-hard nipples, and the way her chest heaves faster the longer I keep my hand on her chin.
Is she attracted to me the way I am to her? If I had to guess… If I didn’t know better…
I scowl and lean in until my cheek brushes hers, her skin so, so soft against mine. “I am going to use you,” I whisper. “I am going to take revenge on your father with you. But it won’t be by raping you.”
“But…” Her voice tremors. Trails off into quiet.