High Pointe

High Pointe - Episode 15

Sophia

Feeling furious and disgusted, I pushed myself to my feet and headed toward the bathroom, intent on washing his seed off of my face and out of my hair. The thought of him marking me like some sort of animal was at war with the memory of his mouth on me, and had my traitorous body wanting to go another round.

Or three.

With a shuddering breath, I tried not to think about it as I made my way to the shower in the corner and stepped inside.

I didn't linger beneath the hot spray of the water, the spray of water weak and barely warm. Instead, I scrubbed furiously at my face and hair until I was certain there was no trace of that man's cum left on my body.

Then, I shut off the water and shivered my way into the bed, using one of the many pillowcases to towel dry my hair before wrapping myself up in the fluffy blanket and curling my body away from the door. I closed my eyes, determined to fall asleep, but the throbbing ache in my ass cheeks where he'd spanked me was only an echo of the ache between my legs.

Scowling at the bars of the bed and the back wall beyond them, I wrestled with my own libido for uncountable minutes as I wondered if denying myself the pleasure was more or less defiant than finishing what he had started. If he hadn't said those parting words I wouldn't have thought about it for a moment, would have brought myself to orgasm the moment he was gone as a way of taking back what he had refused me.

But now, those words echoed in my head, taunting me.

"Think of me when you cum."

"I won't," I insisted again, even as my right hand slid down towards my clit. I had to do something or I would never fall asleep, and I couldn't afford to be tired when he inevitably returned tomorrow. I would do the most defiant thing I could think of, though. I would cum, and I would not think of him when I did.

Instead, I'll think of someone else, I thought as my fingers slid over the damp thatch of hair between my legs and brushed along my clit. I bit back a moan as I imagined someone else touching me, kissing me, fucking me. I didn't put a face or a name to the person at first, just enjoying the fantasy for what it was. But, it wasn't enough. I needed more stimulation and more to imagine.

The first face that came to mind was Ezra's, but I immediately shook the thought away with a wave of revulsion. Ezra wasn't a lover, he was a means to an end, and a questionable one at that. All of our experiences together were masked by a haze of drugs and hatred on my end, and greed on his.

No, I needed someone I found attractive, someone I could trust enough to be vulnerable.

I wracked my brain, thinking of all the men in my life that might fit that fantasy. The boys I had a crush on in high school were all too young in my mind now, frozen at a point in time where they were still awkward and uncertain. And the few guys I had dated weren't going to do it either.

There was an attractive barrista at the coffee shop next door to Précis Pointe who had told me I looked lovely a few months ago. His dark hair was a riot of curls and his name tag read Dutton. We'd shared a small, hesitant smile that day, but that was all. I'd been too focused on practicing to bother flirting back.

Now I wondered what he would have been like. Would he have been sweet, or would he have had a wicked tongue? I imagined a combination of the two, a man who could whisper filth into my ear with the same ease he would have whispered a love poem. He certainly wouldn't have locked me up in a basement and forced me to dance at his command.

I stopped the motion of my hand with that thought, scowling as his face was quickly replaced by Victor's.

Shifting in the bed until I was laying on my back, staring up at the ceiling of my prison, I forced myself to only think of the man in the coffee shop. With a sigh, I slid my hand back between my legs, the image of him clear in my mind. His name was Dutton, I listed in my head, he was handsome and sweet. He would hold me gently, and work my clit with the same careful precision he used for making latte art.