He grins against my skin.
“No,” he says again, more to himself this time. “Not yet. Not until you break.”
Then—like a switch has been flipped—he shifts, grabbing me by the hips and flipping me onto my stomach like I weigh nothing, pinning me with a single hand between my shoulder blades, forcing my face into the cool silk of the sheets.
“You want to be touched so badly,” he growls, voice darker now. Deeper. Thicker with heat. “Then let’s see what you earn.”
My legs are spread. Held there by the sheer command in his tone, the promise in his silence, the threat in his grip.
He yanks my underwear down.
Not delicately.
Not teasingly.
Just gone—ripped from me like I never had a choice.
“Now,” he says, fingers trailing up my inner thigh again. “Be very good and keep your hands where I can see them, or I’ll tie them behind your back and edge you until your voice is raw from begging.”
I nod.
I don’t trust my mouth.
“Words,” he snaps. “You speak when I command you.”
“Yes,” I breathe, throat raw. “Yes—please?—”
He chuckles. Dark. Dangerous. The kind of sound that crawls under your skin and stays there.
“Begging already,” he mutters. “What a filthy little doll you are.”
And then finally—finally—he gives me the barest touch.
Just the pad of one finger. One slow stroke.
And I nearly sob from the contact.
But it stops.
Immediately.
“Ah-ah,” he says, dragging the wetness he found to his mouth and sucking it off his finger. “Not even a thank you? Rude.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, cheeks burning. “Thank you…”
“Too late,” he growls. “Now I’ll have to teach you manners.”
I can’t stop shaking.
Not from fear. Not exactly. It’s something uglier. Something more shameful. Something that makes me hate myself even as I arch back towards the monster who’s ruined me.
Because he hasn’t even touched me properly and I’m already dripping for him.
“You’re such a good liar,” he says against the nape of my neck, his voice low and thick with mockery, dragging the words like silk laced with glass. “You wear your rage like armour, but your cunt tells the truth.”
My breath shudders out of me.
I try not to react. I try to still the twitch of my hips, the flutter in my throat, the heat that burns too deep for skin.
