“What’s wrong?”
Do it. Say it and get it over with.
“I need you.”
There’s a pause.
He’s not going to answer. He’s not going to talk to me. He’s not going to help me.
The door opens.
No light shines in—the room remains dark as he steps inside the closet and then shuts the door behind him.
“I never got my reward for telling you the truth,” I say.
I hear him swallow, but he still doesn’t speak.
I stand up and shimmy my jean shorts down until they are a heap on the floor. He must have heard the flop my jeans made, but he doesn’t react. At least, he doesn’t react in a way I can see.
I reach up and untie my swimsuit top and let it fall to the floor. Lastly, I shove my bikini bottoms to the floor.
“I need a release, Langton. Fuck me. Make me come. I need it if you want me to survive long enough to spill my secrets.”
He doesn’t move.
I hate how desperate I am. I hate that I’ll be cheating on Waylon, but I literally won’t make it without this.
“I’m sorry, Waylon. Please forgive me.”
I grab for Langston.
He doesn’t move as I grip onto his bare chest. He sleeps shirtless, does he sleep naked?
My claws dig into his chest, sliding down his muscles until I find out.
He’s wearing boxer briefs.
So sexy.
I can’t see him, but I imagine him in my head.
No.
I don’t need to imagine Langston. I just need his body.
“Sit down,” I say, pushing his shoulders down.
I’m not sure if he will obey me. I’m not sure if he will take control and rape me.
As long as I’m in control of this, then it’s my decision. Unfortunately, Langston has never been very good at letting me have control.
Surprisingly, he sits on the floor.
“Don’t kiss me,” I say, as I climb on top of him.
I find his cock hard as stone, lift it out of his shorts and let it push at my entrance.
I’m frustrated, worked up and horny as hell. I’m not sure if I’m wet, if I’m ready for him, but I’m too impatient to wait.