Page 72 of For I Have Sinned

I shrug, my hand meeting his, which is slightly restricting my breathing. “I went back to my room and made myself come again.”

The image of what I did makes him groan. “So did I.”

“You came in the confessional booth?”

“You were grinding against me while riding my fingers. I came in my pants like a teenager. Twice.”

A grin spreads across my face. “I’m glad to know I can do that by just grinding on you.”

He laughs and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. “You made me come without even touching me.”

I think back to what he said about standing outside of my room late at night and listening to me touch myself. The images appear in my head of him outside my room, hand wrapped around his cock, pleasuring himself.

“I want to watch.”

“You want to watch me touch myself?” He quirks a brow, and I nod. “Maybe another time. I need to taste you again.”

Alex lets go of my neck and begins lowering himself. Threading my fingers into his hair, I curl them to grip the strands. With a light tug, he hisses as I bring him back to eye level.

“You only get a taste if you are a good boy and do as you’re told.”

He licks his lips, and a subtle smirk grows on his face. “And what, Celine, are you going to tell me to do?”

“Sit,” I order.

With slow steps, Alex moves back to the chair behind him and takes his seat while I remain perched on the desk. His hands clamp down on the arms of the chair, legs spread, and he tilts his head to the side as he stares at me with a heated gaze.

“Now what?”

Placing my hands on the desk’s surface, I lean back and gesture to his pants. “Unzip them.”

His hands move from the armrest to his pants. He keeps his amber eyes focused on mine, and I watch as they grow darker while he slowly tugs the zipper down.

“Remove yourself.” The corner of his lip tugs as he undoes the button.

My breathing begins to quicken as I prepare myself to see him. It was one thing to feel him through our clothing, but to see it with my own eyes? What if it’s disappointing? What if his size won’t even be able to pleasure me?

Our eyes remain on one another, and I swallow nervously as he asks, “Are you going to watch or will you just be staring at my face the whole time?”

Inhaling a deep breath, my eyes fall to his lap. Now my breathing accelerates for another reason. That being the fear of him being inside of me. There is no way that is going to fit in my vagina.

Blinking the panic away, I realize he is stroking himself and clear my mind of his massive size. “Did I tell you to begin?”

His hand stops the lazy movement. “I’m sorry.”

Hearing him apologize does something to me. It’s not that it turns me on more than I already am, even though it does. But there’s something about a man submitting to me.

Part of me enjoys watching a man squirm and hearing them beg because they want me so bad that they’d do anything. It makes me feel powerful.

A man’s ego is hard to break. And when they’re given one option: To fully submit to me and obey my rules, then they can have me. They’re forced to choose between their ego and letting go of their pride and dominance, or being with me. And it’s the moment they fold that I know I am worth it.

I stare at his thick length, and even though I’m afraid of it going between my legs, my mouth can’t help but water. I want to wrap my lips around him. To make him feel good.

When my gaze wanders up, his eyes are pinned to mine, begging to skip all of this so he can be inside of me.

“Go ahead,” I give him permission, motioning to where his hand is wrapped around his cock.

He begins stroking himself, his lips parting as his breathing becomes uneven. He nods towards my dress and in a gravelly tone, he demands, “Lift your dress. I want to see how wet you are for me.”