His Plaything.

His Plaything.

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing16m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Dec 20, 2022
"Say it." He repeated his command, voice gruff and leaving no room for argument. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't very good at taking orders. "N-no. I won't, you fucker." I gasped out, my words strained by his hand placed lightly over my throat. His other hand roaming over my body. All these sensations were making it hard for me to keep calm. He chuckled darkly, his deep Amber eyes clouded with even more passion. His hand squeezed tightly before loosening up. The other was settled below my waist. "Fucking say it. Otherwise I will make you regret it." He warned again. This time he emphasized his words by grabbing my crotch. Embarrassment heated up my cheeks when my dick started to get hard and a gasp escaped through my lips. "Fuck off." I managed to weakly get out. My voice barely above a whisper and slightly breathless. But I totally lost it when he began to stoke me through my tight jeans. This man's was going to be the death of me.
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He stalks toward me, calm yet predatory, a gaze of familiar intensity locking with mine. "Say you hate me," he purrs, his voice smooth as silk. "I hate you," I snap, venom in my tone. It's true-I despise him. But I hate myself more for how my body reacts. His yin and yang eyes glint with amusement. "That sounds so fucking good coming from your lips," he murmurs, pinning me to the wall, his inked body imprisoning me. "I love the way you hate me." "Go fuck yourself," I grit out, clenching my fist and swinging a skillful punch to his jaw, but in a heartbeat and with inhuman reflexes, he catches it and with gentle strength, he secures my wrists on both sides of my head. My breath hitches as he leans in, the hard bulge in his jeans pressing against my stomach. His breath is hot against my ear. "Fuck me yourself, coward."

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