His mouth leaves mine to trail along my jaw, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. When he reaches the hollow beneath my ear, he nibbles down just hard enough to make me cry out.
My head falls back to expose my throat, and he takes full advantage, kissing, sucking, marking me in ways that will leave hickeys for days.
One of his hands tangles in my hair, gripping at the root and pulling until my scalp tingles. The other slides down to my hip. I place my palm over it in a silent plea for him to grip me harder.
Make my body remember you’re here. Bruise it to prove a point. I want to be your broken little plaything, Bastian Hale; that’s what I was born to be.
My thighs clench around his waist. My breath comes in ragged gasps whenever we separate long enough to allow it. Every nerve ending in my body is alight and begging for more.
His hand moves again. It ventures between my thighs. One fingertip slides through the slick heat there.
“Fuck,” he growls against my lips. “You’re soaked.”
We’re on a public sidewalk in broad daylight. Anyone could drive by. Anyone could see.
I don’t care.
“Just… please…” is the most I can say.
“Oh?” Bastian chuckles darkly. “Do you like that, little one? Do you like that these filthy fucking hands turn you on?”
I whimper and rock harder against his hand.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I like it.”
His finger circles my clit once, twice, a third time. Every pass over my most sensitive part makes me spasm from head to toe. I can feel my center clutching at nothing and moan at the absence. It wants so much more and it wants it so, so badly.
“Even after everything?” His breath is hot against my neck. “Even knowing what these hands just did?”
“Especiallyafter everything,” I hear myself say.
Bastian growls, pleased, as one thick finger pushes inside me. I nearly come apart right there on the curb.
“Christ, Eliana.” His forehead drops to my shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line,” I manage between gasps as he adds a second finger and curls them up.
I bury my face against his chest to muffle the heinous sounds escaping my throat. Whimpers and moans like I’ve never heard before.
I have to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. With nothing else for my eyes to focus on, I’m seeing whirls of color, jewel tones and deepest blacks, like I’m staring into a kaleidoscope. My whole body feels like what I see, sparkling, crackling, and percolating everywhere.
His thumb finds my clit again. His fingers keep hooking inside me. The pressure builds fast, too fast, coiling tight in my belly until I’m trembling against him, boiling under every inch of skin, on the verge of a titanic eruption.
“Be my good girl,” he murmurs against my hair. “Come for me.”
That’s exactly what I do. I melt in his arms, my thighs clamping around his hand, my teeth sinking deeper into his shoulder to hold back the cry that tears from my throat.
It kills me and rebirths me and kills me again, this orgasm. I feel like he’s shoving me through a meat grinder and pulling meout the other side and reshaping me in the way that he’s always wanted me to be.
His.
Shaping me ashis.
When I finally go limp against his chest, Bastian’s fingers slip free. His hand doesn’t go far, though. It lays flat over my belly. I cover it with mine and we stay like that, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“We should go,” Bastian says when I’m breathing somewhat normally again.
