It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying, but I force myself to.He might say something that will be helpful if he keeps rambling.For instance, I now know he’s older than most of the people I’ve met tonight.
His fingers come to my hair.He twirls one around a lock.“Fuck, I love this hair.I’m salivating to fist my hand in the long honey waves and give a strong yank.I bet you’d like that.”He chuckles sardonically.“I’ve shocked you.You’re so vanilla you’ve probably never had a man pull your hair, have you, princess?”
I don’t know what he means.Vanilla?Before, he mentioned my shampoo being vanilla, and he’s right.But that’s not the context he’s using now.I’m trembling from the idea of him pulling my hair.Why does the idea excite me?
His hand moves to my thigh, his fingers trailing along the edge of my skirt.“Were you hoping to get fucked tonight, princess?”He saysfuckedlike it’s the dirtiest word on the planet.Or maybe not the word but the implied action.
I gasp and shake my head.
“Are you sure?Why did you come to a drunken college party wearing a short, tight jean skirt and a see-through pale-pink blouse if you didn’t want a boy to fuck you?”
I keep shaking my head.“I don’t,” I manage to whisper.
He slides his finger along the edge of my skirt, the rough pad of his pointer grazing my thigh.“I bet this outfit isn’t even yours.It doesn’t suit you.No part of it does.I haven’t seen your panties yet.Those might be yours, but nothing else.Am I right?”
I sniffle and nod.How does he know that?
“Did one of those girls you came in with lend you this slutty outfit, princess?”
I nod again.
“Words, princess.”
I swallow.“Yes.”My whole body shudders.I’m scared out of my mind, yet he’s mesmerizing me with his voice.It makes no sense.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, princess?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“You’ve never worn a skirt like this in your life, have you, pretty girl?”
“No.”
“Mmm.I figured.You’ve been tugging nervously on the hem since you left your house.”
My breath hitches.He’s been watching me since I left the house.Does he know where I live?He must.I wonder if I would recognize him if I saw his face.“Please, let me go.I won’t tell anyone about this.Just let me go.”I’m still dangling several inches off the floor.He’s still holding me with absolutely no exertion.
“Mmm.Not yet, princess.I’m enjoying getting to know you.”
I whimper again.
“Yesterday, when you moved into your rental house, you had on khaki shorts.They were far less slutty than this skirt.”
A soft moan escapes my lips.I’m not slutty.I’ve never been called slutty by anyone in my life.I’ve always been the good girl.I dress to blend in.Subdued in high school.Definitely not part of the in-crowd.
“Tell me about your panties, princess,” he says as if he’s asking me about a homework assignment.
I purse my lips.My face heats.
His finger comes back to my neck and down between my breasts.“This bra is lacy and dark pink, but it’s about a cup too big for you.”
Jesus.He knows so much about me.It’s unnerving.
“Have you ever owned a lace bra before, princess?”
“No,” I murmur.It seems like a good idea to humor him.
His lips come to my ear.“Does it feel good against your nipples?”