He raises his eyebrows. “Well, if that’s your only objection,” he says, “you don't have to worry. I'm not about to get off here. I'm going to wait until I'm lodged deep in your * before I come."
Reaching for my hand, he places it on his shaft. I should pull away, teach him a lesson in appropriate behavior, but I don’t. With Caulter, I find myself perpetually unable to resist. He’s so hard, and I wrap my hand around his shaft, the sensation of his hardness so distracting. Incredibly distracting. “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you? How it felt when I was inside you?"
I don’t answer, my thumb finding a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his head. I rub it in circles on his tip.
I move my hand along his shaft, long and languid strokes, until the slowing of the car jolts me out of my nearly-hypnotic state. I quickly adjust my skirt and scoot across the seat as we pass through the gate in front of the house, clearing my throat and intentionally not looking in Caulter's direction.
For all I know, Caulter will probably walk out of the limo with his pants around his ass, hard-on fully displayed, just to fuck with me. Of course, the joke would be on him, since Rose has the day off and the only one at the house to torment would be me.
Shit. We're all alone in the house.
I’m totally screwed. And the problem is, the thought of being screwed by Caulter is too damn appealing.
As soon as the car pulls up to the house, Katherine is out of that thing like a bat out of hell. It’s actually laughable. She's practically running, full throttle, toward the door.
I catch her arm at the front door, and spin her around to face me. Her breath is short, and I know full and well it’s not because of that little jog; I've watched Katherine at track practice at Brighton enough to know that.
“Is Rose home?” I ask, and I know what the answer is by the expression on her face -- lust mixed with apprehension.
“No,” she says. “And I’m going upstairs. You do what you want.”
“Ask me what I want.”
“No,” she says. “And there’s a security camera out here.” I let her go, and she opens the door, but once we're inside, I put my hand right back where it was on her wrist and pull her against me, against my hardness.
"What the hell are you doing?” she asks.
“There are no cameras in here, right?” I ask.
“So?” She turns her face up, her jaw set. “Do you think that means you can just grab me like some kind of caveman?”
“Ask me what I want, Princess,” I repeat, pulling her more tightly against me.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“I’ll stop calling you that when I’m buried inside you,” I say, trailing my finger down her cleavage to where the fabric on the top of her dress barely covers it. Her chest rises as she inhales sharply. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Don't I want to know what, asshole?”
“Don’t you want to know what I want?”
“What do you want, Caulter?”
I slide the thin strap of her white dress over her shoulder. I’m tempted to rip it off entirely, along with the dress, but I refrain. “I want to hear you say what you want me to do to you, what you’ve been dying for me to do to you since that night.” I lean in closer and trace the side of her neck below her earlobe with the tip of my tongue. When I graze my teeth against her skin, she jumps.
“No,” Katherine protests, covering her neck with her hand. “If you left a mark…”
“If you don’t tell me what you want, then I’m going to tell you what I'm going to do to you.” I pause for a minute and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Not what I want to do to you. What I’m going to do to you. I’m going to fuck you right here on the floor of your entryway in the foyer of your father’s house.”
“You think so?” she asks.
“I know so,” I say.
“Then what?” she whispers.
I yank the sides of the dress up over her thighs, sliding my hands around her curvy ass and cupping her cheeks. She lets out a little moan when I grip her, my fingers digging into her skin. “Then I’m going to take you into the dining room and lay you across the table so I can lick your * right there while I sit in the chair where your father will eat dinner tonight."
“Caulter!” Katherine brings her hand to her mouth as if she’s somehow surprised. Or embarrassed. But she and I both know that the uptight virgin act is all a show.
She pushes me away and starts down the hallway. I don't catch her until she's passing her father's study, but when I do, I push her up against the doorframe, just like I did at the entryway of her bedroom this morning.
“Daddy’s office?” I ask. “This could work.”
“No way,” she says.
“I’m not finished,” I say.
"Finished with what?"
"I'm not finished telling you what I'm about to do to you, Princess." I reach underneath her dress and inside her panties, silencing her. But when I plunge my fingers into her wet cunt, she groans. “I’m going to make this tight, sweet little * mine.”
“What?” Her eyelids are at half-mast, her eyes rolling back in her head as I stroke inside her. “I am...not….yours.”
“This. Is. Mine." I don’t know why I say it, or why the fuck I’m so insistent about it. I just am. Maybe I want to rile her up. I've never wanted to claim anyone before.
She grips my wrist, forcing me to stop. “I am not a piece of property, Caulter Sterling,” she says. “Just so we’re clear. You might have your fingers inside me, but I'm not yours.”
“Big words, Princess,” I say, as I thrust my fingers in and out of her. “Too bad they’re not true. This is not a discussion. It’s a fact. This * is mine. You are mine.”
“Why can’t you just shut up?” she asks, her voice breathy. “Why do you have to be such a...prick?”
I slide my fingers out of her, and she gapes at me, open-mouthed. "Keep looking at me with your mouth open like that," I threaten. With my hand on her back, I lead her into the study and shut the door.
"And what?"
"What do you think?" I ask, sliding my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor. "I'll give you something to put in it."
"You're so crude," she says. "And stop taking your clothes off. We're in my father's office. It's..."
"Scandalous? Taboo? Just too naughty for the good girl?" I ask.
Her eyes linger on my chest. "I didn't know you had such a large vocabulary, Caulter," she says. "I was thinking more like disgusting and filthy."
I make a show of stripping off my pants as she watches me. "Filthy?" I ask. "You haven't seen filthy yet."
"Why are you taking your pants off in my father's office?" she asks stupidly. She knows the answer.
"You know why, Princess," I say. "Because you need to let loose. And getting fucked in your father's study is the best way of doing that. Unless you’d prefer the dining room first.”
“No I would not,” she says, her voice an emphatic no. But she doesn't move, and her eyes are fixated on my bare cock. “I would prefer…”
I stroke my length, giving her a show since she wants to look at it so damn much. “Wrapping your mouth around me and taking every inch until I fill your sweet little mouth with cum?”
“Oh my God, you are so crude." Again, her words say she's disgusted. But her hand is no longer at her mouth; it's on her chest, palm covering her breast.
"No, Princess, this would be crude." I cross to where she stands. From behind her, I bend her over and place her palms flat on her father's desk. She's quiet now; all I can hear is her breath.
I flip that sweet, flirty little skirt of hers, the one that's wedding white, pure as the driven snow, over her ass.
The ass I've been dying to grip while I plunge my cock inside her.
The ass I've been fantasizing about smacking every time she makes a smartass comment about anything.
So I do it. I bring my hand back, and -- thwack -- down hard against her ass cheek, leaving a red handprint on her flesh.
She looks over her shoulder, indignant. Yet she's not restrained in any way, and doesn't stand up. "Did you just spank me?"
I grin. "It won't be the last time I do it, either."