Dropping the key into my pants pocket, I pull my cell out and type a message before I can stop myself.
Me – We need to talk. Meet me by the lockers in two minutes.
Expecting her to ignore me, I lift my head and scan the room for her, finding her at her usual table, only instead of surrounded by minions like she’s always been in the past, she’s alone.
I watch her read the text, then turn to look at me, her expression shuttered. Smug satisfaction fills me as I watch her slide her cell into her purse, take a forkful of her food, then push away from the table, grab her stuff, and leave.
“I’ll be back in a bit, I forgot something in my car,” I say absently, as I rise from the table and slowly leave the room. Priss is stood by our lockers, her posture relaxed and confident like she hasn’t got a care in the world.
When I reach her side, I allow my gaze to lock with hers, I let my eyes harden and enjoy the visible swallow she has in reaction. Tipping my head in the direction of the dark room I walk past her, not looking back.
She can’t see my smile when I hear her move to follow me, but a sense of power rushes through me at her willingness to still do as I say. It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the door to the dark room and I take the key from my pocket, checking that no one is watching as I unlock the door and gesture for Carrigan to go inside.
Following her in I close and lock the door behind me, only then realizing that I have no idea why I’m here, why I told her I needed to talk to her, or why I wanted her alone in this room with me.
“What?” she snaps after what feels like an eternally long silence.
“You upset your sister.”
“Are you serious? You bought me to this dusty, empty room so you could tell me off for upsetting my sister,” she hisses, rolling her eyes, annoyance pouring from her in waves.
“You’re being a bitch Priss,” I snarl, taking a step closer to her. I’m stalling, because I still don’t know why I bought her here. All I know is that I wanted to be near her, that I want to touch her.
“So I’m told,” she says sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip, her lips pursed together.
“You never replied to my message,” I say, closing the distance between us with another step.
Her shoulders tense perceptively and her arms seem to cross a little tighter. For a moment I wonder if she’s scared. I’ve never hurt her, never done anything without her being right there with me, loving it as much as I was.
I watch as her tongue bobs out, coating her lips in shiny wetness. Her mouth is full and pouty but I’ve never kissed her. It felt too intimate, which is ironic considering I’ve tasted her pussy. The other morning I never even considered pressing my lips to hers, but right now I’m so tempted. I’m tempted to close the final gap between us and take her mouth, own it like I own the rest of her.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.
“What am I doing?” I ask, smiling as I reach out and run the back of my knuckles over the apple of her cheek.
She swallows, trying to turn her face away from my touch but not moving far enough to actually free herself. “It was just sex, to break the will, that’s all.”
“Did you enjoy it?” I ask, stroking my knuckle down her cheek until I can grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger.
“Carson.”
“Did you like the way it felt to have my tongue, my fingers, my cock inside you,” I purr seductively, lifting her chin up and forcing her to look right at me.
“I…”
“Did you enjoy giving up control to me and letting me use you. Did you like it when I made you come over and over?”
Her lips part but no words come out. She’s not Carrigan right now, she’s not caustic and antagonistic, she’s soft and pliant, she’s my Priss.
“If you want to leave, then go now, I won’t stop you. But if you stay I’m going to touch you. Pick, make a decision right now, you have a minute,” I say, dropping my hold on her and taking a step back, leaving her path to the door clear.
Silently I count down, keeping my gaze locked with hers, waiting for her to move. She shuffles on the spot, crossing and uncrossing her arms, but she doesn’t leave.
After what feels like a lifetime I move toward her again. “Time’s up Priss, if you’re staying then turn around, bend over, and hold on to the arm of the couch.”
I expect her to bolt for the door, it’s one thing to have the bravado to stay put when I’ve practically taunted her with the orgasms I gave her, but it’s another to cede control to me again, to do as I say when there’s no reason for this, other than want and need.
She wavers on the spot, her arms falling to her sides, then she slowly turns, moving the few steps to the couch, and bends.
I feel my eyes widen as the hem of her skirt lifts with her movement, not revealing her panties, but giving me the perfect view of the creamy skin on the back of her thighs. Her hands rest on the arm of the couch and she gasps, the sound barely audible, like she’s surprised herself.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
For a minute I just stare at her, thinking about all the
