The sounds of my knees and hands on the floor, the steady beat of my heart, and the sweet thrash of our vengeance filled the room. I crawled between his spread legs and ran my face against his pants like a humble pet. He was hard. The sadist was getting off on this. His inked fingers rested on his knee, and I caressed them with my cheek. He opened his hand and practically rumbled with satisfaction when I stroked the side of my face against his palm. “Please,” I begged, sliding my hand over his erection and up his chest, my next words harsh, “go fuck yourself.” I shoved him as hard as I could.
