Read Online Derision: A Novel by Trisha Wolfe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Trisha Wolfe
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to knees, brooding over just how to handle this delicate woman who has not only disrupted my life, but subverted my routine.
Responsibility. It’s a fucking bitch. My anger rises as I consider how to repay the partners for forcing this situation on me.
I rub the back of my neck, working out the stress gathering between my shoulders.
It’s easy to see now that I’m looking right at it. My pulling rank with the partners wasn’t the sounding alarm. It was the reasoning behind my choice that revealed what they believe to be a weakness.
And Alexis is their way to eke out more of that weakness.
Was I tormented lusting after her every day, wanting what I couldn’t—or rather, shouldn’t —have? Absolutely. There may’ve come a time when my willpower—which was increasingly becoming stretched—snapped, and I hauled her over my desk and ripped her panties down. But it would’ve been on my own terms.
I adjust myself through my jeans. Just the thought of it revives my hunger for her. And therein lies the proof that I couldn’t stop with just one taste. Rather, finally feeling her tight pussy hug my cock has only whet my appetite, and the craving to have her is stronger than ever.
This spurs me off the lounge and reinforces my purpose. We may have been thrust into this less than desirable situation, unprepared and without first establishing guidelines, but I can still reap the benefits.
I yank the covers off her.
She doesn’t stir. Her slumbering body is soft and tempting. One knee pulled to her stomach, the other leg stretched out as she lies on her side, exposing her smooth slit. Kneeling down next to the edge of the bed, I run my hand up her thigh, over her ass, then rub my finger along the silky lips of her pussy.
She rouses beneath my touch. Breathing in her scent, I insert a finger, my eyes closing at the feel of how tight she is, how hot and wet, first thing in the morning. I suddenly regret not slipping inside her while I was still under the covers—taking her slowly and feeling her squeeze me as she came in her sleep.
Her eyes snap open, and I realize I’m pumping her pussy with my fingers, my breathing becoming ragged as my cock strains against my jeans.
I pull out of her and climb on top, shoving her hands above her head and pressing them into the pillow. “Spread your legs.”
There’s a slight tremble to her body, a desperate gleam breaking through her sleepy gaze as she takes in my bare chest, but she hurriedly obeys my command. Her willingness to instantly submit rather than to question excites me further, and I grind my cock against her as her body arches beneath me.
I loathe that I’m this desperate to be inside her—that I could easily give in to this need and spend the day fucking her brains out. That resentment is an irritating seed in the pit of my stomach that forces me to pull back.
Instead, I roam a hand down her body, memorizing her, reading her signals, as if she’s braille under my touch. Soon, I’ll know every spot that drives her crazy, every place that causes her pain. I’ll know how to evoke any emotion and action I desire from her with simply one touch.
I push inside her, expanding her tight walls with three fingers and making her moan as her pelvis bucks off the bed. Just as quickly, I remove my fingers, denying her any pleasure.
“Shower first, then we’ll discuss what happens next.” I release her and forcefully remove myself from atop her. When she doesn’t move right away, I lift her leg and give her ass a light swat. “Your reply should be ‘yes, sir’ before you do as told.”
Her humiliation is tangible; my nose flares as she scoots off the bed before she even knows in which direction to go. I sink my teeth into my lip, physically stifling my need to grab her ankles, yank her beneath me, and revel in her embarrassment. She flaunts it like a taunting child with a new toy, wriggling her little ass as she hurries toward the bathroom.
She’s trainable,
Responsibility. It’s a fucking bitch. My anger rises as I consider how to repay the partners for forcing this situation on me.
I rub the back of my neck, working out the stress gathering between my shoulders.
It’s easy to see now that I’m looking right at it. My pulling rank with the partners wasn’t the sounding alarm. It was the reasoning behind my choice that revealed what they believe to be a weakness.
And Alexis is their way to eke out more of that weakness.
Was I tormented lusting after her every day, wanting what I couldn’t—or rather, shouldn’t —have? Absolutely. There may’ve come a time when my willpower—which was increasingly becoming stretched—snapped, and I hauled her over my desk and ripped her panties down. But it would’ve been on my own terms.
I adjust myself through my jeans. Just the thought of it revives my hunger for her. And therein lies the proof that I couldn’t stop with just one taste. Rather, finally feeling her tight pussy hug my cock has only whet my appetite, and the craving to have her is stronger than ever.
This spurs me off the lounge and reinforces my purpose. We may have been thrust into this less than desirable situation, unprepared and without first establishing guidelines, but I can still reap the benefits.
I yank the covers off her.
She doesn’t stir. Her slumbering body is soft and tempting. One knee pulled to her stomach, the other leg stretched out as she lies on her side, exposing her smooth slit. Kneeling down next to the edge of the bed, I run my hand up her thigh, over her ass, then rub my finger along the silky lips of her pussy.
She rouses beneath my touch. Breathing in her scent, I insert a finger, my eyes closing at the feel of how tight she is, how hot and wet, first thing in the morning. I suddenly regret not slipping inside her while I was still under the covers—taking her slowly and feeling her squeeze me as she came in her sleep.
Her eyes snap open, and I realize I’m pumping her pussy with my fingers, my breathing becoming ragged as my cock strains against my jeans.
I pull out of her and climb on top, shoving her hands above her head and pressing them into the pillow. “Spread your legs.”
There’s a slight tremble to her body, a desperate gleam breaking through her sleepy gaze as she takes in my bare chest, but she hurriedly obeys my command. Her willingness to instantly submit rather than to question excites me further, and I grind my cock against her as her body arches beneath me.
I loathe that I’m this desperate to be inside her—that I could easily give in to this need and spend the day fucking her brains out. That resentment is an irritating seed in the pit of my stomach that forces me to pull back.
Instead, I roam a hand down her body, memorizing her, reading her signals, as if she’s braille under my touch. Soon, I’ll know every spot that drives her crazy, every place that causes her pain. I’ll know how to evoke any emotion and action I desire from her with simply one touch.
I push inside her, expanding her tight walls with three fingers and making her moan as her pelvis bucks off the bed. Just as quickly, I remove my fingers, denying her any pleasure.
“Shower first, then we’ll discuss what happens next.” I release her and forcefully remove myself from atop her. When she doesn’t move right away, I lift her leg and give her ass a light swat. “Your reply should be ‘yes, sir’ before you do as told.”
Her humiliation is tangible; my nose flares as she scoots off the bed before she even knows in which direction to go. I sink my teeth into my lip, physically stifling my need to grab her ankles, yank her beneath me, and revel in her embarrassment. She flaunts it like a taunting child with a new toy, wriggling her little ass as she hurries toward the bathroom.
She’s trainable,
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