Page 37 of The Way We Rot
“I was upset,” I told him, trying to keep the bite out of my words. “Someone messed me up, and I didn’t know what to do. Needed to come here and get my head fixed up.”
“Really?” he asked, that fucking eyebrow raised. The things I wanted to do to that eyebrow… like slice it off and chew it up.
“Really.”
We stared at each other for a few beats. I chewed on my cheek, and he glared. But his finger twitched, and I could just imagine it was because he yearned to launch across the table and take me, ravish me in the most delicious way. I lost myself for a moment, thinking of all the things he might be fantasizing about. Me, in my ugly overalls, with a swollen, bruised head and tired, pallid skin.
“I don’t like it,” he admitted, yanking me from my fantasy. “I don’t have… access toyou here.”
I leaned forward, not able to lift my hands to my chin like I wanted. “And why do you need access, Adrian?”
“Sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sir or CO Darling, remember.”
I laughed, sat back, and shook my head. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “I’m happy to… to call you that, for you to be my sir, but I need clarity. Please, I need to understand.” I ducked my head and looked up at him through my lashes. “I think I need more.” Would this work? Vulnerability and softness?
“More?” he asked, bracing his arms on the desk and running his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyes dragging over all of me visible. “What more do you crave, little killer?”
I took a deep breath. This felt like the moment. It was now or never. “I want you to help me get out of here.” My voice cracked, real emotion leaking into my fakery. Shit.
If he could do it…
There was a nice long beat where what I said washed over him, and I didn’t know what to expect. I might have just screwed everything up forever. Or maybe–
“If I uncuff you, will you try to hurt me?” he asked, and I shook my head fast, my heart pounding. “Will you try to hurt yourself?”
“No.” I was over that for now. My skull throbbed too much to do it again.
He stood, paced around the edge of the table until he reached me, then without a word, unlocked the cuffs. I watched him as he returned to his chair, leaned back and spread his legs, cocky, cool. I pulled my hands free of the metal and flexed my fingers, even though it had only been a few minutes.
Why was he doing this? It was a show of strength again, of power, of seeing how far he could push me.
“Get under the table,” he told me, gesturing downward. I tilted my head, trying to parse out what the hell was going on here.
He hadn’t said no. He hadn’t sent me to the warden or thrown me in the hole again. Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe this was working.
I slid to my knees and crawled under the table, stopping between his spread legs. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable.
“Unbutton my pants,” he demanded, his voice soft but stony.
“The door isn’t locked,” I noted, my hands running up his thighs towards his growing bulge. I wanted this. Making him feel good and powerful was useful. That was all.
“Take my cock out and make me come fast, then.” That eyebrow went back up; his jaw tightened.
This felt like a test, but I couldn’t figure out what for. Did he want us caught? This to be over? Or was he enjoying how fucked up this all was? It was him that had the control in these situations, not me. He who instigated and took. I was along for the ride yet again.
But I did as he asked, pulling his hard, fat cock free of his pants and letting my saliva pool on my tongue before licking a long line from base to head.
I groaned, his musky flavor heating my body. Fuck, I loved it. He’d conditioned me with the way he fed me it to crave him like this. Every drop of pre-cum I lapped up, sucking deep on his tip to get as much as I could,wanting to suckle on him like a straw. It was a complex thing, letting him try to switch off my brain. When it worked, peace tickled at me. But peace was unnerving when I let it all the way in.
“Remember, quick, little killer,” he grunted when I grasped his balls and tugged them, snaking my finger underneath to find that spot between his sack and his ass I knew he loved having played with. He needed fast; that was a guaranteed way to achieve that. I’d learned his dirty predilections now.
I bobbed up and down on him, pressing on and teasing his asshole, and he spread his legs wider. It was still a tricky angle, with his pants on, my hand snaked inside them and twisted round to reach his happy spot, but we made it work.
“Fuck,” he grunted, and I moaned as he flooded my mouth with cum with no warning. “Hold it.”
