"You wanted him to watch you being 'assaulted' by a charity chase. Wanted him to see you helpless, vulnerable, tits out and trembling." His voice dripped contempt and dark amusement.
"You thought if he finally saw you as the damsel—scared, violated, needy—he'd step in. Play the hero. Sweep you up and hug the trauma away like the knight you've been dripping for all term."
Sierra's breath sobbed out, wet and broken. Her thighs pressed together, a tiny, desperate clench as shame and unwanted arousal crashed through her in equal measure.
"You staged the whole thing," Phei whispered, lips almost brushing hers now, "just to get his hard chest over you. Hugging you while you fake sob in trauma."
Her eyes spilled over—silent tears tracking down flawless cheeks.
"And now look at you," he crooned, voice pure sin, "pinned to the wall, tits pressed to the charity boy you tried to destroy, cunt soaking through those expensive panties because the wrong man finally put you in your place."
