“What does it look like Little Sister?” he replied, his tone almost lazy, like he was testing something. He cups my boobs, gentle at first, but then squeezes hard enough to make me suck in a surprised gasp through clenched teeth.
“Is this what you like?” he continued, watching me too closely. “You like it when it’s rough? When it’s a fight? That’s what gets you off?” Now his hand travels lower, grazing my stomach and making the muscles jump under my skin.
“What?” I whispered breathlessly. I had no idea what he was rumbling about but he continued anyway.
“That day,” he went on, his voice dropping lower, “you stood there watching. Don’t even try to deny it. You were turned on.”
My stomach twisted.
Not entirely in anger, which annoyed me even more. I couldn’t deny I was wondering how it
