Wrong Move
1606 Words
MAYA
Robert’s hand tightened around my throat and my lungs screamed for air. I choked, both hands flying to his wrist as his grip around my throat tightened.
My nails dug into his skin trying to get freedom, but he didn’t stop. His eyes were fixed on me—unreadable, merciless. I tried to gasp out a word, any plea that might soften him, but my voice was strangled into silence. My body betrayed me, trembling, both with fear and something far darker that curled low in my belly.
My fists hit his arm again and again, but still not in competition with his strong arm.
Yet… God help me, even in that dangerous grip, something alive stirred between my thighs.
My chest rose and fell in a panicked rhythm until, at last, he loosened his hold. His hand slid lower, his eyes burning into mine before they flicked down, tracing the trembling spread of my thighs.
One by one, he parted my legs with his hands, leaving me open in front of him like I had been waiting all my life for this. The butterflies I thought had gone to sleep inside me snapped awake happily.
I was still waiting for his lips to lock with mine. I swear down, I knew he’d kiss me, he was only taking his time. But instead, his attention dropped lower, to the space where my body ached for him most.
I bit down hard on my lip, trying to disguise how much I wanted him.
Even without a kiss, without a single word of sweetness, he was about to undo me. And I was letting him anyways.
I dropped my gaze, expecting to see him ready, hard, aching the way I ached. But his p***s wasn’t standing at attention. It lay relaxed, as though he didn't feel a thing.
Disappointment cut sharper than it should have. Some foolish, possessive part of me wanted him aching for me. But maybe I wasn’t enough to pull him there.
I bit my lip, swallowing the bitterness, convincing myself it was temporary. That after touching me, and tasting even a little of me, he would not be able to hold back.
He pushed my skirt higher, the fabric gathering above my hips in his fist. My heart slammed against my ribs. With no hesitation, he ripped my panties, the sound sharp in the bathroom’s tiled silence.
A gasp tumbled from me, raw and instinctive, before I clamped my teeth on my lower lip to silence the rest. My hips jerked forward, caught between protest and want as he pulled out my ripped pants.
My best friend’s father was going to be the end of me.
I could undeniably feel my wetness, betraying everything I wanted to keep buried.
My impatience thinned to breaking point. My body pulsed with a need so demanding it almost felt like pain. I wanted—no, I needed him inside me, his hand claiming me, giving me what my fantasies had always dared and failed to deliver.
“Robert…” My voice cracked as I whispered his name, shameful and sweet on my tongue.
His eyes met mine. Green darkened to steel, but he didn’t let out a word. He leaned close, his mouth descended to the shell of my ear instead, hot breath grazing my skin.
My body arched toward him like I had been trained for it. His lips touched my neck, ghosting over me without giving in to a kiss, and the torment of it made soft, helpless sounds escape—moans I couldn’t take back even if I’d wanted to.
God, could he just stop torturing me and take me, giving me the release my body craved?
Why was he doing this to me if he didn’t want me?
“Please,” I mouthed, burying the rest of my pride.
Instead of giving in, he gave me more of his cruel game. He brushed the torn fabric of my panties against my lips before shoving it deep down into my throat, gagging me.
It was shocking, filthy, but a part of me accepted it. If that was his language, I would learn to speak it fluently.
Anything to keep him close and stop him from pushing me away again like some indecisive kid.
And then his hand trailed dangerously close to where I throbbed, his fingers teasing at the tip of me. He didn’t push inside. He traced, feather-light, leaving my nerves screaming and my body betraying me with every twitch.
I bucked forward, desperate to catch him, to force more from him, but he pulled back just enough to keep me aching. He was toying with me, keeping me caged on the brink.
Tears from the cruel ecstasy of being denied burned in my eyes.
I thought he might finally give in when his thumb pressed against my swollen c**t, just enough to make sparks burst in my vision. My moan tore free against the gag, broken and wild.
But he stopped.
His grip on my throat released completely. His hand fell away from between my legs and his face looked left me stranded in the ruins of my desire.
“Get out.”
I blinked, the words slow to process.
“But Robe—” I tried to muffle.
“Get out of my room,” he snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, pointing towards the bathroom door.
I froze, disappointment cutting deeper than any wound. His rejection was like a hot iron on my skin.
The room spun as I staggered to my feet, spitting the ruined panties to the floor in defiance. My legs shook beneath me, shame and anger and lust warring in my veins.
I wanted him to stop me, pull me back, and admit he felt the same storm that was destroying me.
But he didn’t.
I brushed past him, swallowing the sob that threatened to rise, still praying he would grab my arm, force me to stay.
He didn’t.
Daydreams.
That’s all it was. My stupid, dangerous daydreams.
***
I shut myself in my room, pacing in tight circles. My pulse hadn’t slowed. My skin still buzzed with the ghost of his touch, every nerve remembering the almosts.
Why would he tease me to the edge only to cast me off like a child caught stealing? Why would he look at me like he wanted me one second, then shove me away the next?
I couldn’t untangle the knots or the heat of his hands from my thighs.
How could I ever look him in the eye again?
Shame poured over me in waves. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. But layered beneath was an undeniable and gnawing hunger that no rejection could erase.
I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face into my pillow, muffling the scream that tore out of me. Obviously not from pain but from the twisted craving still consuming me.
I should have hated him or been quick to swear never to go near him again. But all I could think about was the weight of his hand on my throat, the searing heat of his breath against my ear.
What was wrong with me?
A pounding at my door ripped me out of my thoughts.
“Maya!” Becca’s yell sharply echoed in my ears. “Don’t make me tear this door down, you snail!”
I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow. Of all times…
She banged again, relentlessly. “This is my house, remember. Don’t test me—I swear, I will break it down!”
Of course she would. Robert Ricardo’s spoiled, overpampered daughter. No one would scold her for it.
Dragging myself from the bed, I waddled to the door, broken in ways she would never understand.
I cracked it open just a little, leaning my body against the frame, poking only my head out.
Becca shoved the door wide, grinning. “Shy girl,” she teased, brushing past me.
“Shy?” I echoed, startled.
Wasn’t she supposed to be scolding me? Instead, she was laughing, carefree, like nothing was wrong.
“You should get more comfortable with him, you know,” she continued, flopping onto my bed. “Dad doesn’t mind doing anything for you. He sees you as his daughter, Maya.”
God, Becca! Can you just shut up for once? He’s not my dad.
I forced a smirk. “You know I’m never shy.”
“Except with him,” she sing-songed, grinning wider.
Holy s**t! I’m doomed.
Becca tilted her head at me. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re shy around my dad.”
My stomach dropped. Was she joking? Her smile was playful, but my mind spun with paranoia.
“That’s not possible,” I whispered under my breath, almost to myself.
“What’s not possible?” she asked, tilting her head. “He told me everything. And I saw the popper too, on the bathroom floor.”
My blood ran cold. My eyes widened. Words uselessly scrambled on my tongue.
Becca leaned closer. “You’re lucky he didn’t get that the whole idea was supposed to be a surprise birthday thing.”
But my pulse pounded in my ears.
Why wasn’t she saying what I needed to know? Why wasn’t she telling me exactly what he told her?
“Bec…” My voice cracked with desperation. “What again did he say?”
She tilted her head, disapprovingly. “You already know everything that happened in his bathroom, Maya.”
Was I about to be thrown out of the only place I had?
- Writer
