Forced to Wed: A Billionaire's Demand

Chapter 49

Sarah

"Come on, don't hold back. Do you enjoy having me inside you?" His husky voice gives me goosebumps and the honest truth spills out of my mouth.

I tell him he ruined me. Just the mere thought of him touching me makes me wet between my legs. And yes, despite everything else, I still miss him.

"Sarah, are you still there?" He growls, snapping me back into reality.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Are you in our bedroom right now? He asks.

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?" I counter.

"I want you to do something for me," he says.

"Why should I do anything you ask me to?" I pout even though he can't see me.

"Just do it," he says, his voice a blend of command and seduction,

I pause, weighing my options. The idea of refusing him outright tempts me, but curiosity and that unyielding connection I feel towards him win over. "Fine. What is it?" I ask a hint of defiance still in my tone.

"I want you to close your eyes and touch yourself, thinking of me, of us together. Can you do that for me, Sarah?" His voice drops, softer now, coaxing.

The request sends a shiver down my spine. It's daring and intimate.

"Why?" My voice is barely a whisper, caught between desire and hesitation.

"Because I need to know you're still mine, even when I'm not there."

His words, the raw need in them, dismantle the last of my defenses. I want to be angry, to rage against the hold he still has on me, but the truth is, I crave the connection as much as he does. "Okay," I say softly, giving in to the moment, to the sensation, to him.

"Okay? I'll have to admit. I didn't think you'd give in." He chuckles.

"I won't do it if you keep making fun of me," I snap.

His chuckle fades into a soft, apologetic sigh. "I'm not making fun of you, Sarah. I'm just... surprised, pleasantly so. I didn't think you'd agree because you hate me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice that I've rarely heard before. It strips away the layers of anger and hurt, revealing the raw nerve of our connection.

"Yes, I do hate you. But I like the way you make me feel sometimes," I admit.

"That so? Then do as I ask and take your panties off," Vincent commands.

"No, y-you first," I breathe.

He goes silent for a moment, and all I hear is the sound of my own heart. "You want me to take my pants off?" He drawls.

"Yes, take them off and I want to hear you do it," I say boldly. Why should I be the only one giving him my all?

"You are naughtier than I thought, little one. But as you wish," he finally says.

The line goes quiet except for the faint sounds that suggest movement: a rustling of fabric, the metallic sound of the zipper going down, and a soft thud, perhaps the sound of clothing hitting the floor.

My imagination runs wild with the thought of Vincent complying with my request, the very thought sending a thrill through me. I have never been the one making commands, so this feels different.

"Done," his voice returns, deeper now, laced with a hint of amusement and something else—desire, perhaps. "Your turn, Sarah."

With a shaky breath, I comply, the sound of my own heart racing loudly in my ears. The fabric slides off, and I whisper, "Done. Now what?"

"Now, touch yourself for me. I want to hear you moan my name as you do it," he purrs.

"But...I don't know how to do it by myself. I've never done it," I say in a hushed tone.

Vincent chuckles. "Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't it? I'll guide you through it, baby. Just picture me touching you the way I always do, alright?" His voice is as smooth as honey, dripping with seduction and authority.

It makes my knees weak, but I manage to nod my head even though he can't see me.

"Good girl." He praises. "Start by running a finger between your legs. Like how I stroke my cock," he says, and I can picture him doing it to himself like I saw the other day.

"I feel weird. It's embarrassing," I whimper.

"No, sweetheart, don't feel embarrassed. Find that sensitive spot...it will be worth it, I promise," he groans. The guttural moan that escapes his lips spurs me into action.

I tentatively dip a shaking finger between my folds, letting out a sharp breath at the sensation. My nerve endings are on fire, tingling with anticipation and desire.

"Oh, fuck, that's right," he encourages. "Tell me how it feels."

"It... it feels good." I whimper again, unable to form coherent sentences anymore as my body starts to betray me once more. "S-slick..." I add before biting my lower lip to stifle a moan that threatens to escape my lips.

"keep going. Rub it slowly, Sarah," he growls softly, his voice husky with arousal. "Touch yourself like you crave me inside you. Pretend it's my cock between your legs." His crude choice of words only fuels the flames of arousal within me, and I oblige him without thinking twice.

"Keep talking to me, Sarah," demands.

"I...I don't know what to say," I breathe as I slowly rub my clit.

"Describe who you are picturing while you are touching yourself," he orders.

"Describe?" I croak out. My neck is burning with embarrassment now. Why does he have to make such crazy demands all the time? "Why?"

Vincent's voice fills with a growling insecurity, "I need to know you're imagining me when you pleasure yourself, Sarah. Not some other man."

I can't resist a smile at his vulnerable admission. Oh, how the mighty Vincent Sterling fears I fantasize about another man, perhaps even Jared?

This is just too good. A mischievous giggle escapes my lips, much to his dismay.

"What's so funny?" he barks.

"Nothing," I say, amusement coloring my voice.

"Stop messing around and tell me what you are picturing," he sounds impatient, almost desperate.

"Okay, fine. If it's that important to you," I huff, but my voice is laced with humor now. "I'm picturing you, Vincent. Your blue eyes are staring into me, and your strong hands are gripping me tight as you kiss me."

Vincent grunts on the other end of the call, and I know I hit a nerve. Good. Serves him right for making me do this act in the first place!

"D-do you have your hand inside your pants now? Are you touching yourself?" I ask him, playing along with his game. A soft groan is my only answer, but it's enough for me to know that he's more affected by this than he wants to admit.

"Fucking hell, Sarah. You are better at this game than you think," he says gruffly. "Maybe next time, we will do a video chat," he adds.

"Nn...no way!" I breathe.

"Let's finish this for now. I want you to come for me. Can you do that?" he says, his voice hoarse.

I whimper and continue to touch myself. "Yes, V-Vincent. I-I'm touching myself," I moan and add for good measure, "And Jared's name is not leaving my mind."

"Sarah! Stop it!" Hearing his enraged voice only spurs me on further. This time, I'm in control, and I intend to relish every moment of it before our roles are reversed again when he comes back.