A Dangerous Game Read Online Free PDF

table and taken her hand.
     
    "Will I see you again in England?"
     
    "If you want to," she said.   She felt her heart beating.
     
    "I'd like us to be friends."
     
    His fingers had tightened round hers.   He tugged at her gently, forcing
    her to lean towards him.
     
    "I want more than that," he said.
     
    "But we can be just friends, if that's what you prefer."
     
    She remembered that she had actually blushed.   No, she had told him, it
    wasn't what she preferred.   She wanted more than that, too.   She had
    expected him to look grateful but he simply smiled and said:
     
    "That's what I thought.   I have rooms here, you know?   We can go up
    after our meal and you can stay as long as you like."
     
    Thinking back on it now she realised how mechanical his love-making had
    been.   She let him use her because she did not really know what to
    expect.   And he had known that, had counted on it.   She forgave him all
    the things she did not like.   She convinced herself he was the kind of
    lover she wanted and ignored the truth.
     
    He had undressed her and encouraged her to undress him.   Her hands
    shook when, as his clothes came off, her fingertips touched his skin.
     
    She wanted to linger, to caress his chest, his nipples, the hollow of
    his neck.   Kiss his ears, his eyes, his lips.   But he seemed
    uninterested.   He hurried her on, pushing her hands to the buttons of
    his shirt and the waistband of his trousers.
     
    He said very little until they were both naked.   She noticed that
    although his penis was large, he was not erect.   Because she was so
    inexperienced, she thought he was deliberately holding back so that he
    did not rush her.   When he pushed her on to her back she was startled
    but compliant.   When he straddled her and pushed his limp penis into
    her mouth, she struggled briefly.
     
    "Do it."   He put his hand under her head and lifted it slightly.
     
    "For me.   Do it for me."
     
    She was not even sure what to do.   His penis filled her mouth.   She
    tried to suck, to nibble and caress.   He moved his hips and she felt
    him swell and heard him gasp.
     
    "Yes, good.   It's good."
     
    She was pleased because he seemed pleased.   When he was hard, he
    groaned, pulled out of her mouth and pushed her legs open.
     
    "Are you ready for me?"   She felt his hands on her pussy and shuddered
    with unexpected pleasure.   He made no attempt to excite her, but simply
    inspected her quickly.
     
    "Yes," he muttered.
     
    "You're ready.   Now I'll make a woman out of you."
     
    He entered her quickly, thrusting with rapid movements, and she felt a
    keen sense of disappointment.   She wanted to be touched and kissed. She
    would have liked to feel his lips explore her secret places.   She would
    have liked a slow build-up to the final pleasure.   Instead he came with
    a violent jerking of his hips and a groan of relief, and immediately
    pulled away from her and lay on his back.   She felt nothing.   No pain,
    no pleasure.   And even then, she remembered, she did not blame him.
    She thought this was how it should be, the first time.
     
    "Was that good?"   he asked.
     
    "Yes," she lied.
     
    He knew very well it wasn't good, she thought,
     
    remembering.   And when I lied, he knew I was his.   He'd baited the hook
    with pretty words, some pretty gifts and a couple of nice meals, and
    he'd landed his prize.   A silly, besotted, sexually ignorant
    teenager.
     
    Just what he wanted.   The bastard!
     
    She made a determined effort to shut off the film that was running
    through her mind.   Why do I still think about the past?   she
    wondered.
     
    Why torture myself?   She turned restlessly in the bed.   She knew why.
     
    She blamed herself for everything that had happened to her, for every
    horrible detail.   And after ten years, it still hurt.   It hurt like
    hell.   Especially at times like this, at night, in the darkness, when
    she felt alone.   She felt her