I gripped the edge of the table, even though I was seated. His filthy, crass words knocked me sideways. “I . . . yeah.”
“How do you like being bare for me? Does it turn you on?” His voice felt like it was inside my head. “Did you walk around all day with your panties clinging to your wet cunt?”
Oh. My. God. “Yes,” I said quickly. My face was on fire.
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected. “Turn on FaceTime.”
My pulse jumped to a thousand beats a minute. His command had a strict tone, hinting whatever was going to happen next would most likely be punishment for not addressing him properly. I tapped the icon on my screen, and he came into view a moment later. He was seated on his leather couch in his living room, his face unshaven.
He looked rough until his sexy mouth tugged into a half-smile. “Look at you, college girl. Makes me feel like an old man.”
My hair was pulled up into a messy bun. I wasn’t wearing my contacts, instead I had on my rectangular black frames. True to the stereotype, I had on a baggy Loyola sweatshirt, leggings, and no makeup. “Yeah, I know I look gross—”
“Shut your smart mouth. You’ll wear those glasses next time we fuck.” My insides turned to liquid. “Flip the camera around and show me where you are.”
The chair creaked as I stood. I tapped the reverse icon and panned my phone slowly. What was he doing? A thought flitted through my head and anxiety ratcheted tighter. He was checking to see if anyone was around.
“Take your stuff and go down one of those rows. All the way to the back.”
The tremble in my belly increases when I did as asked, sensing what he was going to command me to do next. I set my backpack on the floor in the corner beside rows of case law books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.
When I reversed the camera back to me, he didn’t make me wait another second. “Show me your naked pussy.”
I glanced around, checking for the hundredth time there wasn’t anyone nearby. My face was burning. “This is a public place.”
“Didn’t stop you before,” he reminded. “You agreed to this. You’re mine, Noemi. To have and look at any time I want. Now.”
The lighting was dim with the tall racks of books, but it felt like spotlights on me. I lifted up the bulky hem of the sweatshirt and pinned it against my body with my elbow, then slipped my fingers under waistband of my pants and panties, extending the phone down to my lower body. I pushed the fabric over a hip, then the other side, working the leggings down until they cut across mid-thigh. Cool air washed over my exposed, bare skin.
He could see every pale inch of my flesh, and he made a noise of approval. “Those pants go all the way down to your ankles, naughty girl.”
“What?” I almost shrieked it. A quick flash was one thing, but getting caught with my pants down around my boots was another.
“You pull those goddamn pants down now or next time I’ll spank you so hard you won’t sit right for a week.”
Heat burst through me and I got drunk off being under his control. I set the phone down on top of the books, yanked my pants down my legs until they were bunched around my suede boots, and fumbled to pick the phone back up, showing him I’d done it.
“Put your coat on the floor, sit on it, and get those knees open. I want to see how wet you are.”
My shallow breathing made me lightheaded, so I was grateful not to have to stand any longer, but holy shit. What I was doing was dangerous. The wool of my coat was scratchy against my bare ass, but I didn’t give it much attention. I spread my legs open as wide as the leggings would allow, and balanced the hand holding the phone on my bent knee, angling the camera to show him.
“You’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand it. Touch yourself.”
Sensible Noemi who’d been shut down, screamed back to life. “If I get caught, they’ll kick me out of school.”
“Be quiet and hurry, and no one will catch you.”
Crippling anxiety coursed through my veins. “I’ve never . . . done that with someone watching.”
Joseph’s face disappeared from screen as his phone panned down. His pants were undone, a fist wrapped around his dick, stroking himself. The slow glide of his hand up and down was hypnotic. I moaned, unable to contain my desire at the image.
“You like watching this, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Join me. Show me.”
My upper body was pressed against the painted cinderblock wall, and I let my head tip back to rest there when my left hand moved off of my coat, and went between my legs.