I should have been fighting him, trying to get away, not standing topless in front of him with my panties wet from him palming my breast.
"Sir," he corrected as he pinched my nipple again.
"I like the way you touch me, sir," I said, my voice shaking as humiliation burned in my cheeks.
"Good girl," he purred. "Let's see what else you like."
He grabbed me by the throat?—
My whole body went rigid. His fingers pressed against the necklace, the metal digging into my skin, and for a second, I couldn't tell if it was the bomb or his hand that was going to kill me. The weight of both crushed down on my windpipe.
His hand tightened just enough to make sure I knew he held my life in his hands, and he was choosing to let me breathe.
Terror and something darker, something twisted, flooded through me in equal measure.
My heart pounded faster, and my lips tingled as he leaned in and traced the curve of my upper lip with his tongue.
"Your lips are so sweet. I wonder if the rest of you tastes as good."
He pushed me back and I stumbled, landing on my elbows on the bed. He stepped closer and I pressed my thighs together. The corner of his mouth curled up as he placed his hands on my knees and pried them apart before standing between them.
Leaning down, he placed one hand on the bed next to me and wrapped the other around my throat again. The necklace bit into my neck and my pulse hammered against his fingers, against the metal, a frantic reminder that I was alive only because he allowed it.
The fear should have drowned everything else out. It should have been all I felt.
But it wasn't.
He kissed me again, squeezing my throat just hard enough that my lips parted and he took full advantage, thrusting his tongue into my mouth, claiming it, owning it.
My senses filled with his scent, and every nerve ending I had came alive.
I hated myself even more as the tingling heat moved to my core, and I knew I was wet for him.
When he broke the kiss, he moved along my throat, tasting my skin. He was slow, methodical, trailing his kisses down my throat to my collarbone, skipping the heavy necklace that glinted around my neck, moving to the curve of my breast.
My nipples tightened, and my breath hitched, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. When his lips wrapped around my nipple, I couldn't help the gasp that pulled from my lips, how heavy my eyelids grew. It felt so good.
It had been so long since I had been touched, so long since I had felt pleasure like this. And no matter how much I didn't want to want him, no one had ever affected my body the way Darius did.
His hot mouth pulled at my sensitive skin, his teeth scraping, adding an addictive, sharp shot of pain that was instantly soothed by the caress of his tongue. My core grew hotter, and the flush on my cheeks burned hotter, but I wasn't so sure it was only embarrassment.
One of his hands stayed around my throat while the other moved to my other breast, pinching and massaging. I had never thought my chest was overly sensitive. Maybe I needed that mix of pleasure and pain...or maybe it was just him.
His beard scraped across my skin as he let go of my breast with a pop, then lifted off of me just enough that he could look down at me. His eyes were intense as he took in every inch of me.
"Give me your wrists," he ordered, and I lay back, offering my wrists to him, my hands clenched.
He held them both in one of his massive hands, his fingers gripping tight as he brought them over my head and pressed them into the mattress. "Keep them there. Do not move them, or I will punish you. I promise you will not like the way I punish you. Is that understood?"
His tone left no room for argument.
"Yes, sir," I answered.
He got off the bed, and I didn't move. I lay there, his words binding my wrists and tying me down.
He traced the line of my panties with the tips of his fingers, just sliding along the waistband, teasing me. Even that tiny motion made me ache. My stomach hollowed as my chest rose with a deep, shuddering breath.
"If I were to pet your pretty cunt, would I find it wet for me?"
