But would I?
I gasp as he brushes the crotch of my panties.
“Kitten, you’re soaked.”
Kitten?
“You’re soaking wet,” he repeats. “You want me to put this hard cock in your pussy in that dirty ditch, don’t you?”
“No!” I say, trying to close my legs and stop his invasion.
He’s too strong. His finger curls under the cotton crotch and teases my clit sending shockwaves crashing through me. One finger and then two find their way to my hole. I try not to moan, but my body is clenching his fingers, holding on tight.
“P-please,” I plead. “Please don’t do this.”
“You want it. You want it bad.”
“No, I don’t.”
My head jerks back as he pulls my hair again, this time causing tears to trail down my cheeks.
Victor sticks out his tongue and licks my face, from my chin to my eye. I move to back away, but I can’t. He does it again, his spearmint-scented breath in my nose as his saliva covers my cheek. All the while his fingers continue to assault me, to plunge in and out of me.
“Cry, kitten,” he says. “I’ll drink every tear, each drop makes me harder. Each one is another thrust in your pussy, because you’re going to relieve this ache in my cock. I’m going to take you. Look at how you’re rocking your hips to my touch. You want this. You want me. You’re mine.” He sits straighter, looking directly in my eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”
I’m not sure what I know, embarrassed that my body is reacting—no, appalled. This is wrong, and yet I am moving with his fingers, wanting him to touch my clit, needing for more than what he’s giving me.
Another long lick of my face and I fight to not flinch. “Tell me,” he demands.
“Tell you what?”
My head snaps back again, my scalp screaming from the repeated attack.
“Don’t make me punish you,” Victor warns. “Hurting you is only my goal to bring you pleasure, but I will, kitten, I’ll make you cry. I’ll make you scream. Follow my rules and this will go much better.”
His rules?
His fingers leave my cunt. But before I can think about it, cool night air and the truck’s AC reaches my chest as he rips the front of my dress, pulling it apart at the seams. He hisses at my the sight of my breasts, pushing up out of my lace bra. Without removing it, he pushes the lace cups down, exposing them.
“Look at your nipples,” he teases. “They’re hard. You’re turned on. Now tell me what I want to hear. Tell me who you belong to.”
“M-my husband,” I manage to say.
He pinches one nipple and I shriek at the jolt of pain. “Try again, and don’t forget to say Sir.”
“I do, Sir. I belong to him. I’m married.”
“Does your husband know that? Have you told him? Does he make you wet?” Victor sucks on the finger that was only moments ago in my pussy. “Does he make you this wet?”
I can’t process all of his questions. My husband can make me wet. He has. I nod.
“Then why did you choose to keep him waiting? If you want him, you wouldn’t work an extra broadcast, would you?”
“I-I...it wasn’t about him.”
He tweaks my nipples, pinching them roughly with his fingers. “Oh, kitten, it should be, but since it’s not, you’ve got me. I’m going to teach you how to treat a man.”
“Please...” It’s all I can think to say.
Victor leans back. “Take off your underwear.”
“What?”
His rough fingers pinch my cheeks, crushing my mouth until the taste of copper lets me know it’s bleeding. “Sir,” he says. “Don’t make me say it again.”
I nod. When he releases my face, I say, “Yes, Sir.”
He sits back again, never taking his eyes from me while I shimmy out of my panties. It’s not an easy process in a dress and with the seatbelt.
“Give them to me.”
My pulse races as I hand him the light pink panties that match the bra still under my breasts. Victor takes my panties to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales. He sighs. “I love your smell. I knew I would. But I never knew that you’d be so fucking wet.” And then his dark eyes are back on me. “If you forget to say Sir one more time, these are going in your mouth. Do you understand?”
I shiver. “Yes, Sir.”
His lips curl into a cruel smile. “That’s my pet. Before we’re done, you’re going to not only know who you belong to, but you’ll say it too.”
I don’t answer as he scoots back to the driver’s seat and fastens his seatbelt.
When we’re done? That’s what he said. Will he let me go? Will I get back to the man I married, the kind man who would never do this to me?