“Oh,” I moaned softly. “Oh, please...”
He drew back. “Please, what, Felicia?”
I didn't even know. “Please, don't stop,” I said.
“Don't stop... what?”
There was an edge in his voice I'd heard before, when he cornered me in his office, when he'd sucked my clit beneath the table and made me come. He was going to do it again.
“Don't stop kissing me,” I said. “Don't stop anything.”
“You aren't in any position to give me demands,” he said. Then his hand closed over the back of my neck and he pulled me away from the wall.
This was a dangerous game I was playing, and I didn't know any of the rules, but I found I didn't really care. He would teach them to me, and I would enjoy every minute of it. I sagged into him, but his hand was like iron, holding me up.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered in my ear. His breath sent shivers raging over my neck and up my scalp, and I found myself doing as he bade without even thinking about it. I walked my feet outwards, until I stood in a wide stance.
His hand crept up into my hair and caught it, not painfully, but firmly. I was in his control.
“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.
“I told you I'd let you live on your feet,” he said. Then he pushed, flipping me over, bending me at the waist.
The sudden change disoriented me and I gasped and put my hands out to keep from falling. The rough carpet of the floor burned my palms and I hissed, but I had no time to dwell on that because he was gathering the endless layers of skirts in his hands and pushing them up over my back, until the upper half of my body was trapped in a tent of tulle and my ass was exposed for the world to see.
Hot fingers slipped under the elastic of my panties. A cool draft of air hit my heated pussy lips as he pulled the crotch away. Then he released it and let it snap back against my cunt and I squeaked.
“You should never wear panties around me,” he said. “It's so inconvenient.”
I felt moisture gather inside me at those words. “All... all right.”
“You understand?” he said. “No more panties. Ever.”
His voice was hard. I gulped. “No,” I said. “Never.”
“Good,” he said. His hand retreated, but I stayed where I was. The long stretch of my hamstrings at the back of my legs felt good and painful at the same time, and the knowledge that I was at his mercy made my knees weak.
I heard a click, and then the air hit my slick folds again as he pulled the crotch of my panties away once more. There was a pressure and a pulling, and then the fabric snapped, released.
He had cut my panties.
“Much better,” he purred. One fingertip parted my pussy lips and I gasped sharply. My breasts hung heavy and my legs were starting to ache, but all I could do was focus on what he was doing to me.
Slowly he stroked my entrance. I felt the flesh there quiver and clench, hungry and alive at his touch, but he did nothing more, only stroked me softly, occasionally flicking my clit, and inside me desire mounted. Blood rushed to my cunt, and I ached with emptiness. I needed him to fill it.
Whimpering, I squirmed, trying to catch his finger, but he wouldn't allow it.
“Tell me what you want, Felicia,” he said. His voice was loud in the silence of the dressing room. My toes curled at the sound.
“Please,” I said, and it came out as a breathless moan. “I want you inside me.”
He stroked my pussy again, and I felt his gaze on it, admiring the way I quivered and quaked, aching for him.
“No,” he said softly. “Not here.”
Not here? You went down on me in a restaurant! I wanted to scream. What made this place any different? I pushed my hips back, trying to force him inside, but he moved away, teasing me.
“Why won't you fuck me?” I whispered. I hated how plaintive my voice sounded.