But here I am, dressed in a corset and panties, in Kent’s secret sex room, with him asking me if I’m ready to begin? My mouth goes dry, hanging open slightly, and I have absolutely no answer. Because honestly…I don’t know what I want – But then. I see Kent’s mouth curve up, ever so slightly,
I’m shocked and confused by the emotions that run through my body in this moment. Because one part of me – a huge part – wants me to cry out, to beg him to stop – to tell him that I’m scared, and this is too new, and too fast – But the other part – maybe the larger part? God damn it, but it want
Kent wants to break her. He wants to tame her to his will like the wild filly she is. And to do that, he has to get her to beg him to stop. He has to push her to her limit and get her to admit that she had one. Because this girl? She had far too much power over him, and he needs to take it back.
I dash from the room, pounding down the stairs that lead to the second floor, my mind set on nothing but the safety of my room, my bed, my closed door – But as I turn onto the second-floor landing, I slams into someone coming up the steps from the house’s first level. “Whoa! –“ the person sa
And considering my two “dates” this evening, I definitely know which one I preferred. I climb groaning into bed, pulling my covers up over me, still shaken from my experiences but starting to feel better. Just before I drift off to sleep, I grab my phone – Not the Kent phone, the burner. The
In the early hours of the morning Kent comes through the door to the third floor dressed in his wrinkled clothes from the night before. He exhales a deep breath through his nose as he pulls the door shut behind him and starts downward, his eyes on his feet. “What were you doing with her in there
I see him put the pieces together as he clenches his jaw and moves his eyes back to mine. “Good morning, Fay,” he says, his calm belying the anger I can see roiling behind his eyes. “Good morning, Kent,” I whisper, leaning against the doorframe, wanting the support. Kent opens his mouth to s
“Oh my god, Daniel,” I spit, blushing beet red and leaning forward across the table. “Are you serious? Before coffee?” He leans back in his chair and glares at me. “What, do you think coffee is going to make this any better?” “Yah,” I say, snatching his own tiny espresso cup from its place in fr