“And you think you can?” It was my turn to smirk. As if anyone could handle me. I was the one who handled people. Just like I was handling Christina Brooke. She may have thought she’d seduced me from across the room, but it was I who was in control. And when I took her, it would be on my terms.

But allowing her to believe she had the power was half the fun.

“I know I can.” Her chin jutted forward in a challenge. Or she was hinting that she wanted to be kissed—probably a combination of both.

“Interesting.”

“Is it really? Because I’ll tell you what I think would be interesting.” She grabbed me through my pants, and I grew stiffer in her hand. If she kept that up, I’d come right there.

That wasn’t happening. I needed to get inside her. I needed to be balls deep. I needed to pound out the strange mixture of victory and self-loathing that was currently messing with my head. Waiting was done. It was time to act out my desires.

I leaned in to Christina’s ear. “Unless it starts with my tongue in your mouth and ends with my cock in your cunt, I don’t want to hear it.”

Her eyes dilated as she peeked up at me under her long lashes. “Let’s go to my bedroom, shall we?”

It didn’t have to be a bedroom. It didn’t even have to be private. “I’ll give you two minutes and wherever we are in that time, that’s where you’re getting fucked.”

She led me upstairs and to her room within her time limit. But just barely. As soon as the door was shut behind us, I was on her. My mouth mashed against hers in a bruising, erotic kiss. I plunged my tongue between her lips, immediately establishing my dominance. This would not be playful sex. This would not be sweet sex. This would be rough sex. This would be sex on my terms.

I broke the kiss long enough to pull her tank over her head. My hands palmed her breasts as I resumed my power over her mouth. She moaned as I bit at her lips. She sighed as I squeezed her tits. She yelped as I pinched her nipples. She loved it—every single minute of it.

I’d lost my virginity before I was sixteen, and in the three plus years that I’d engaged in sexual activity, I’d been broad in my exploration of technique and style. There were times that I fully enjoyed the idea of turning a woman on. It was a turn-on for me—not because I cared so much if my partner experienced pleasure but because it was a chance for me to exude my power. Like any of my experiments, I craved the dissection of cause and effect. I reveled in guessing what effect my actions would have on each of my lovers.

I knew how Christina would want it from her initial reactions to my dirty talk. She wanted me dominant and controlling. Fortunately, that was exactly the way I wanted to get off that night.

Without untangling my tongue from hers, I pushed her back to the bed. She started to sit, pulling me down with her, but she was not in charge of this experience. I was. I pulled away, exerting my domination and urged her to stand again. I turned her so her back was to me and nudged her down on the bed so that her ass was in the air in front of me. I placed my hands at the top of her thighs and caressed up to her ass, pushing her skirt up to her waist as I did. Her behind was round, plump, perfect for kneading. Perfect for biting.

Brushing the thin material of her thong aside, I swept my tongue across her cleft and then clamped my teeth into the flesh of her ass. She howled and my cock leapt. I danced my finger over her hole and found her wet and ready. Thank God I didn’t have to put much effort into prepping her. I was eager to be inside.

I pushed her panties down to her knees. “Spread your legs,” I commanded as I undid my zipper and pulled my jeans down just far enough to release my pulsing cock. Then, without warning, I shoved into her, filling her deeply with my first stroke. Shit, she was tight, and I realized she hadn’t been as ready as I’d imagined. That was fine. She felt goddamn amazing—snug and clamped down around me.

Gripping her hips, I began to plough at a steady pace, my jeans falling further down my thighs. I watched my cock as it thrust in and pulled out. It turned me on more. This was my favorite position—going from behind. It was the most erotic view and decidedly less intimate than face-to-face. Plus, it just felt good.

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.” I’d been reckless to not put on a condom, but frankly, I was feeling invincible. The triumph of Celia’s break-up, the way my plan had played out just as I’d planned, that I was fucking the girl of my choice in the way that I wanted—it was a powerful moment for me. I exhilarated in it.

“Yes. The pill.” Her voice trembled and I slammed into her harder, faster, the sound of my balls slapping against her skin the sensual underscore of our intercourse.

“Of course you are. Because you’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You have to take precautions because you never know when you’ll let yourself be fucked. Whenever you get the opportunity.” I didn’t always go for the demeaning sex talk, but it was a nice touch when the girl was into it.

Christina’s channel tightened around my cock. She was definitely into it.

“Say it,” I demanded. “Tell me you’re a dirty slut. Tell me you love to be fucked.”

“I’m a dirty slut. I love to be fucked.” She groaned it as much as spoke it, and immediately she grew wetter.

“Yes, you do love it.” I let go of her hips and leaned over her body so I could be near her ear. “Now, Christina, you need to get ready to come. Because I’m coming soon and I’m not waiting for you. You’re so good at being fucked, though, I don’t think it will be a problem.” I reached under her to rub her clit as I spoke. I wanted her squeezing my dick with her orgasm.

Whether it was my words or my rubbing, Christina complied, quickly erupting around me with a scream.

There, that was what I needed. I followed with a long, low grunt. My fingers returned to her hips, digging into her skin as I throbbed and pounded out the last of my climax.

I was still inside her when the bedroom door flew open.

Automatically, my face turned to see who our audience was. My eyes connected with familiar blues—Celia.

Could my night get any better? I’d thought the whole plan had ended perfectly before, but this was the real icing on the cake. Now, in this moment, Celia would realize that I didn’t actually feel the emotions that I’d led her to believe I’d felt. I’d thought I’d have to have a conversation about it. But, oh, do actions speak louder than words.

Celia froze in her spot. Her eyes darted from me to Christina and back to me. It all seemed to take minutes, but in reality, only a few quick seconds passed before her hands flew to cover her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

It was only then that Christina noticed our intruder. “Fuck! Celia.” She moved to get out from under me, but I held her in place.

“I’m sorry.” Celia’s voice cracked. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

She spun and headed out the way she’d come in.

I could have gone another round—I was hard again from Celia’s interruption—and the last thing my cock wanted to do was withdraw from its warm cocoon. But I was desperate to draw more reaction from Celia. This was the final stage of the experiment—the recording of results. I had to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling. What she thought she was feeling.

Without cleaning up, I stuffed myself in my pants and gave directions to Christina. “Take off your skirt and panties and wait for me here. Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

She scrambled to obey as I left her. My cock throbbed, yelling at me to stay. My heart, on the other hand, beat wildly at the thrilling outcome of my experiment. The adrenaline and an ability to guess where Celia would go—to her car—allowed me to make up for the distance she’d put between us, though I didn’t spot her until I was outside.