19. When Control Broke
1747 Words
Molly
I am standing in front of Charles completely naked.
The cold air hits my skin immediately, sharp enough to make me suck in a breath, and my n*****s harden before I can stop it. Of course they do. My body has absolutely no loyalty.
His eyes light up first, then darken with hunger. They move slowly over me, lingering on my face before drifting down to my boobs, unashamed and intense. His gaze makes my stomach tighten. When his eyes travel lower, my thighs press together on instinct because everything down there is already aching and needy.
“You are so f*****g beautiful,” he says roughly.
My breath spikes and I swallow hard. The way he looks at me makes me feel shy all of a sudden, like I am smaller under his attention. I have been naked in front of Josh plenty of times, but he never made me feel like this, like I am something fragile and dangerous at the same time.
My hands drop automatically, trying to shield my lower region and whatever dignity I think I still have.
Charles catches my wrists immediately and yanks me closer.
“Why…” he mutters, “…are you ashamed that I’m seeing how wet you are? Your p***y is literally dripping, and I haven’t even done anything.”
I’m losing my mind because he’s right. I can barely think straight. I’m a second away from begging for his d**k, just like Amber said I should.
But I can’t let this happen. I try to pull away, desperate to regain some control. “Let me go,” I say, but my voice comes out small and useless.
He smirks. “Are you sure you want that?”
He waits for my answer and I cannot give him one.
Then he kisses me.
The kiss is rough and claiming, like he has decided I belong right here. He pulls my body into his, my boobs crushing against his bare chest, and any remaining resistance melts. I try to keep up, but he overwhelms me completely, stealing my breath and my thoughts.
Before I can even process it, he lifts me effortlessly. I gasp as my legs wrap around his waist on instinct and he carries me to the bed, settling me down with him hovering over me.
I should stop this.
Instead, my body arches toward him like it has been waiting all along.
His lips leave mine and drift down to my neck, and I swear my toes curl before I can even think about it. That spot is way too sensitive. I let out a low, helpless moan, and he chuckles against my skin.
His hand slides over my body, finding my left boob and kneading it slowly, deliberately. He is teasing me, torturing me. My mind starts short-circuiting. I want him. Bad. Now.
“Charles,” I breathe shakily, “I need you… right now.”
He inhales sharply, eyes dark. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I don’t care. I can’t take it anymore. I need it.” My words are desperate, almost pathetic.
He stops kissing me and lifts his face, locking eyes with mine. He studies me like I’m some complicated puzzle, like he’s deciding whether I’m ready for what he’s about to do. My stomach twists. His intensity is dizzying.
His hands cup my face gently, thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “If I do… if we do… then we’ll be one. I want us to be… but not without you knowing everything first.”
I blink, confused. What the hell is he talking about? I should ask, but all I can think about is the ache curling low in my stomach and the need to feel him inside me.
I close my eyes and grind against him, chasing friction, and he laughs softly, low and teasing.
“You’re really a horny little thing,” he murmurs. “And here I was thinking you were some innocent puppy. Tell me, how many men have seen you like this… so needy?”
“Stop talking nonsense and just do something,” I snap, frustrated, breathless, and annoyed that my body reacts anyway.
He doesn’t relent. His fingers trail down my stomach and lower, brushing against my entrance, teasing just enough to make me shiver. “I want to know,” he whispers, voice thick with heat.
“Only him… Josh,” I admit, hating myself for it, hating how easy it is to speak when he’s like this.
What is happening to me? Why am I answering him? It’s like he’s controlling me somehow.
His finger slide inside me and I suck in a shaky breath.
“Ahhh,” I moan, my hips pressing into him.
“I hate that bastard even more,” he growls. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one does. You’re mine. Every inch of you.”
I try to close my thighs, but he forces them apart with his leg, trapping me. “So f*****g tight,” he mutters. “Look at how your p***y clenches around my fingers. Are you sure you’ll be able to take my c**k?” He adds another finger, making me arch and whimper, eyes rolling back.
“You’re filthy,” I whisper, frustrated and wet and melting at the same time.
“We both are,” he says, twisting his fingers inside me, “but you’re just pretending. After I’m done with you… you’ll be as filthy as me.”
He picks up the pace, pumping faster, and my body starts shaking uncontrollably. “Yes… ahhh…” I babble, moaning like an i***t.
“What am I doing to you right now?” he asks, voice low, dangerous, but I can’t answer. I just whine, gripping his shoulders like a lifeline.
“Tell me what I'm doing to your p***y right now,” he demands, roughly.
God, he’s unbearable. He’s arrogant, infuriating, and I hate that I need him so badly.
“Finge… fingering me,” I whisper, pathetic and needy.
He smirks darkly. “Correction. I’m finger-f*****g your pussy.” His thumb brushes over my c**t slowly and I nearly lose it at the sensation.
“Say it,” he demands.
“No… f**k you,” I whine, but it comes out breathless and trembling.
“Then you won’t get to c*m,” he warns, smirk still in place.
He drives me insane, faster and harder, making my body tremble and see stars. Just when I’m about to shatter, he pulls away.
“Say it,” he insists. I sigh, defeated.
“You’re… f*****g… my pussy.” The words sound foreign…filthy, and he bites back a satisfied smile.
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s back at it, moving inside me, my body bouncing under him, every nerve screaming. Heat coils low in my stomach and my c**t clenches as the orgasm hits me like a wave, and I scream his name.
He lowers his head immediately and kisses me, swallowing up every sound, claiming me completely.
I barely have time to think before he’s whispering against my ear, “You taste so good. So f*****g good, Molly. I could do this all night and still not get enough of you.”
I look up just in time to see him licking his fingers slowly.
My face burns instantly.
This man is filthy. Absolutely unhinged. And my body is responding like it has lost all sense of self respect.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I pant, half-amused, half horrified.
“I love that I am,” he murmurs, lips brushing my shoulder. “Makes me want to break you in every way possible.”
Heat coils low in my stomach.
He leans down, lips hovering just a breath away from mine, and I swear I can already feel the kiss. My body arches without permission, my hands gripping his arms like that will somehow save me from myself.
And then my ringtone goes off.
I groan. He freezes.
“Who the hell is calling you at this time,” Charles mutters coldly.
I try to sit up, but his hand presses me back into the mattress with zero effort, caging me with his body. Instead of moving away, he stretches toward the headboard, grabs my phone, glances at the screen, then hands it to me without breaking eye contact.
“It’s your mom,” he says flatly.
I take the phone and my stomach drops when I see the name. Sandra.I never changed it to Mom. How did he know it's my mom?
“I have to answer this,” I say, already doing it.
“Hello.”
“Molly, you have to come now,” my mother says. Her voice is tense. “Your father’s family suddenly came.”
My heart skips. “What? Tonight?”
“Yes. They’re already here and downstairs. Call Josh and get here immediately.”
Josh.
I hear a low sound beside me. A sharp exhale. When I glance up, Charles’s eyes have gone dark.
“I’ll be there,” I say quickly. “Give me about an hour.”
“Hurry,” she snaps. “They came with their lawyers.”
The call ends.
My fingers curl around the phone and my chest feels tight.
“She wants you to come right now,” Charles says quietly. “It’s almost ten.”
“I know,” I reply, sitting up this time. He lets me. “But it’s important. I have to go.”
Even saying it makes my stomach twist.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, already standing. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
I stare at him. “Charles, I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he replies calmly. “And I’m still not letting you go out alone at night.”
I scoff. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“It’s either I go with you,” he says firmly, “or you stay here.”
I gape at him. The audacity of this man. The way my body still reacts to him even while I want to smack him.
“You are unbelievable,” I mutter.
“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly, eyes locked on mine. “What’s your choice?”
God help me.
- Writer
