Can You See What That Woman Does To Me นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I heard that he committed suicide so I don't understand, everything seems to have a reason. He didn't say anything but he came closer and put his index finger on my forehead. Little by little, some memories came out of my mind, it wasn't mine but it was like I was watching that scene myself. "No! I don't want to say, please I don't want to!" screamed the woman as she struggled against the man on top of her. crying, not liking what the man was doing to her. he couldn't help but punch her in the stomach and make her lose consciousness.

My body went cold instantly, and I tried my best to remember her face but I couldn't seem to do that simple task either. Goddamn it. "Who are you, do I know you?" I asked the woman in front of me, she looked familiar but I still couldn't remember her. "You used to, but I guess not anymore." She actually blushed and touch my jaw with her fingers, tracing them as if she's one psychotic woman with her prey drugged in her basement. Fuck. I'm in her basement. There are no windows. What is she going to do with me? "Maybe you should tell me? I'm here aren't I?" I decided to play along with the sick bitch, while my mind try to figure out where I'd seen before.

Most relied on makeup and facial surgeries, but the lady standing before me exuded natural beauty from head to toe. She looked directly into my face with her lively eyes and slowly reached her hand out. What is she doing? Is she trying to dance tango with me before introducing herself? Or has she not heard of who Enzo Clinton is? I have an anti-women disorder! Besides my family members, no woman can touch me, and if they do, they end up in my bed.

Staring at the lens like she’s taunting it. Her breath quickens beside me. Her hand drifts down her thigh. “You want to touch yourself?” I ask. She looks at me. “No. I want you to do it while I watch.” --- I pull her into my lap. Her back to my chest. Her eyes fixed on the screen. She watches herself bend over the bed. Watches me tie her wrists. Watches herself writhe under my mouth, under my fingers, under my cock. Her body squirms in real-time, mirroring every motion from the past.

My deskmate, Elaine Jenkins, was the kind of girl who was born with a sharp tongue. She loved nothing more than embarrassing me in front of everyone. When I showed up in a brand-new white shirt, she sneered, "Look at the country boy who finally made it to the city. Are you really that worried people will not realize how hopelessly tacky your taste is?" When I switched to contact lenses, she laughed. "Those eyes look like a dead fish's. Taking off your glasses is not going to magically turn you into a handsome guy." Then I won a prize in the math competition. She just rolled her eyes and said, "Please. Everyone knows he stays up all night grinding through problem sets. He practically worke

Which is the last thing I want to be. When I blink, I see her in the car again. Broken and bleeding. Then I blink again, and I see the arc of the crowbar coming down on Jack’s knee. Again, Violet is up against a tree. Again, and she’s in my car, blood welling up on her thigh. I shake my head to dislodge those images. The violence I crave versus the woman dancing before me. “I see you,” she says. Her head whips around with each spin, up on her toe. She turns breathtakingly fast, but she doesn’t lose balance.

So many toys, whips, chains, and all kinds of stuff I’m not even sure what they are. A woman meets my gaze as her partner pumps into her from behind, and she smiles at me. I quickly avert my gaze. Another woman is tied to a big wooden X. There’s a man on his knees with his head buried between a woman’s thighs. The more I keep looking, the more the tingling between my legs intensifies. A guy approaches me, offering his hand to me, but I only smile and shake my head.

Sure, there was a slight hint when we fucked, but this is way bigger than that. The two women inside, one strapped to a bed, the other woman holding a whip, looking away. I don't need to see more. The second window was just like the first; however, a woman was naked, kneeling with her arms bound behind her back, and there was a man and a woman with her. Okay, I can cope with that; my mind is processing the thoughts well considering, reaching the third window, I feel brave glancing inside.

But here I am, undone by the simple act of a blind woman trying to see me in the only way she can. I’ve been called many things in my life—a brute, a killer, a monster. But in this moment, under her touch, I feel... human. Vulnerable. And it scares the hell out of me because I can’t remember the last time I let anyone get this close, let anyone see the man behind the mask. “I wish I could see you,” she whispers, and I can hear the longing in her voice. I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling as I try to compose myself. “What do you see?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

How am I supposed to handle this woman? “Are you going to keep me waiting?” Her voice pulls me out of the trance. Then I watch her hand reach back from behind, her fingers finding her clit and she starts to rub herself in teasing circles. She looks at me over her shoulder, eyes boring into me. Dark and daring. I see everything from where I stand. Her fingers gliding over her swollen clit. The sinful arch of her waist dipping down then rising back up to where her ass sits round and high and perfect. The view is absolutely insane.