She tries to escape my hold, digging her fingers into my hair and forcing me aside. But I manage to hold out and take each blow, each scratch from her nails as they dig into my skin. I take her defiance with honor, with pride, for being able to draw the animal out in her so easily. Rising fast, I spin her around to face the wall. Looking down, her bare ass makes my mouth water as I quickly take her wrists in my hands and force them above her head, slamming them and her naked body back against the cold wall.

“I prefer you in your blue nightgown, not some hand-me-down rags any whore could wear.”

“They came from John,” she hisses.

Who’s the traitor now, Smee?

But my thoughts are cut off as she presses her ass back against my groin in a means for escape. Although, all it does is make me want to take her, rough and hard against her will. It’s a thought that has my dick hardening to a painful high because I never did get the release I craved last night. And no one in my life has been able to give me a release like Wendy.

“Besides, why do you care what I wear?” She looks over her shoulder and gives me a heated stare. “As you said, time is ticking. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.”

My body crashes against hers so hard I worry for a split second I may have hurt her. When she doesn’t give me reason to believe she’s injured, I wrap her hair in my fist and pull her backwards across the room. She kicks at me. Grabs out to maim me, but being just out of reach, I watch the show like the fucked-up monster I feel inside, entirely too delighted with the scene. My cock grows harder noticing all the ways she’s filled out. All the curves she didn’t have as a young woman.

“Let. Me. Go!” Wendy screams just as I reluctantly release her, and she bounces back against my bed. Out of breath, naked, legs parted, and hands braced at her sides gripping the sheets, I swear I have never seen anything more tempting in my life. Pussy bare. Nipples hardened. I have to tell myself to look away briefly, before I fuck her senseless like I’ve been craving to for seventeen years.

“The blue nightgown,” I insist, looking back her way. “Nothing else.”

“Why?” she shouts, standing and taking a step towards me.

My eyes graze down over her frame before raising and meeting her stare. She notices and smiles, and fuck if it doesn’t do something to me. Her confidence is enticing. Her maturity fucking breathtaking as she places her hands on her hips in challenge. She tempts me. And fuck if it doesn’t almost push me over the edge.

“Because. I. Fucking. Said. So,” I fume.