A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... in my pocket.

Uniform first: Tank clinging to my chest... nipples shadowing faint from the chill... the tight shorts riding high on my bare legs, hem barely covering the crease of my ass. Mirror lied: I looked defiant. Ready to fight the heat, the hands, the want. Kitchen first... counters gleaming already, but I scrubbed anyway, sponge grinding tile like it owed me blood. Steven "supervised," lounging on the stool, legs spread casual, that bulge in his shorts not subtle.

"Missed the sink edge, sis. Bend over... get it proper."

I did... slow, deliberate, ass flexing under the shorts as I leaned, the fabric pulling taut across my cheeks.

Rebellion thrummed: Let him look. Stare all he wants.

But no reaction. No heat. His hand landed anyway... palm flat on my thigh, sliding up slow, thumb brushing the hem.

"Check time. Rule 1... compliance gauge."

The touch sparked... electric, unwanted... my skin prickling, clit twitching despite the clamp-down.

No. Fight it.

I jerked straight, sponge dripping suds down my arm, his hand falling free with a wet slap.

"Don't. I'm cleaning. Back off."

Voice sharp, laced with venom... the hate for the booth's fingers, the lap's curl, spilling over onto him. Him and his log, his vid, his gentle wipe-down that'd left me wanting more.

Steven's grin faltered... surprise flickering... before hardening, pen out.

"Demerit 2: Resistance to inspection. 3:15 PM."

He leaned closer, voice low.

"Pushin' hard today, ...

... huh? What crawled up your ass?"

"You. All of you."

I slammed the sponge down, suds splashing his shorts... accidental-on-purpose, rebellion's petty win. Water darkened the fabric, outlining him clearer, but I didn't look away... glared instead, heat coiling traitor low despite the fire in my chest.

"Logging my 'arousal' like some science project? Filming me gagged and begging? It's sick. I'm not your toy."

The words poured... raw, unchecked... the self-hate twisting out: For cumming in the booth, for shattering over Mike's knee, for waking slick and circling my clit to the memory. Hated her. The slut who'd spread for fossils' fingers, gushed over stepdad's knee, woken circling her clit to the memory.

"Touch me again, and I'll scream it to the neighbors."

Liam poked his head in then... drawn by the splash?... notebook in hand.

"Heard that. Demerit 3: Threat. 4: Sass overload."

His eyes dipped to my tank, nipples peaked from the chill and the rush, but I crossed my arms... shielding, defiant... thighs clenching against the throb building unbidden.

"Boys' room next. Hour's ticking."

The room was a relapse: Stale musk hitting like a slap, beds unmade, tissues lurking under like landmines. I dropped to knees without prompt... carpet biting through the shorts, ass up as I crawled for the dust under Liam's bed. *Fight the want. Ignore the exposure, the way the hem rode high, cool air kissing the panty crease.* Steven knelt behind... supervise, my ass... ...