I pinch her nipples with one hand and can feel the gush of her pussy weeping on the other. Flicking her clit hard makes her shudder and her head falls back again.
I yank it forward and hold a fistful of her long hair. “Suck me, Sam. Drink all my cum. I want you to come on my hand. Fuck my hand like a good girl, come on.”
I finger her savagely as I thrust into her mouth until she’s falling apart on my hand, grinding herself into my palm with a desperation so blatant that I feel a huge rush of power. When I bust a nut, I pull out and let my semen spill on her tongue and her chin. Her face is a mess, but she licks up the milky droplets dutifully.
I smack her swollen and spent pussy and she yelps in surprise. “I hope the douchebot was watching the whole time.” I grab a cloth napkin from a glass cup and wipe her face gently, kissing her lips tenderly. “Would you let him watch us fuck?”
Natayla nods before crashing into my chest, her face obscured from me. I feel a tiny tinge of guilt that I get so turned on by humiliating her.
“Tell me who you belong to,” I ask her, lifting her chin until our eyes connect.
“To no one. I’m not property,” she spits.
“Your pussy says otherwise.” I squeeze her chin in my fingers until she winces from the pressure. “That cunt is mine, Taye. You can say whatever you want, but your body doesn’t lie. It’s not douchebot’s wet noodle you think about when you finger yourself at night. How many times did you make yourself come after I left you last night?”
She blushes bright red and I push her back to the wall, then yank her thighs so she’s slouched in the seat while I slip under the table.
Once underneath, I yank her lowered leotard, tights, and pants off with one long tug. Sam pulls her sweater closed over her bared breasts. If anyone came in, she’d look like she was sitting alone, slouched in the booth.
I massage her with my hand before laying my mouth on her pussy. She’s so tender, she shudders like she could come again from a single lick. She groans, and her thighs lock around my head as I push my tongue home, all the way inside her. I flick my tongue over her clit until she falls apart in waves, grinding her pussy into my mouth like she can’t get enough. Her moans spur me on to suck every last drop of arousal from her cunt.
I’ve got a mind to tear down my pants and fuck her properly. But part of my plan is this humiliation, this slow torture where I strip her of her power and watch her succumb to me. I might lose my mind playing this dangerous game with Sam, but I’ve got years of pent up venom, and the only place I want to unleash it is with this woman who drives me crazy.
I sit on the table while she rearranges herself in the booth.
“I don’t want to see you with him again. Even if it’s for a shitty lunch where he eats and watches you starve. I’ll break his fucking leg if I catch you two together again. And if I catch him stuffing his face and starving you, I’ll break both his fucking legs.”
Sam looks like a satisfied cat and unleashes something like a grin, then raises her brow. “So, let me get this straight. I can’t eat with Lance, but you can grind into Dahlia anytime you want. How does that work?” She straightens her tangled hair with her fingers.
“Exactly like you said. That was choreography, Sam. Maybe if you didn’t quit the company, you’d get partnered by someone else. Shit happens. No Lance or no deal,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms defiantly. “I don’t even like Lance. It’s not fair. What’s my end of the deal? What am I supposed to get out of this?”
She’s feeling feisty and hurt and refuses to look at me. Pulling out a small mirrored compact, she swipes at the stained mascara beneath her eyes.
“You’ll be mine,” I state frankly.
She squints at me and gives me a halfhearted grimace. “Your girlfriend?”
“My everything,” I reply slowly, pronouncing all the syllables.
“Natayla!”
Our heads whip to the wide oak lintel that separates this dining room from the next. The douchebot stands at the entrance taking us both in.
“There you are,” he says. “I went all the way back to the studio looking for you.”
Natayla shrugs and then yawns from the alcohol.
“Both his fucking legs,” I whisper to Sam. “Easy on the bread there, cowboy,” I say to Lance as I pass him, patting his little man-gut through his ugly polo. “See you at rehearsal, Sam!” I yell over my shoulder as I make myself scarce. “Eat some fucking granola.”