I chuckle. “Oh, I don’t want to kill you, Freckles,” I say, my voice dropping into a low growl. “Mhm.” I chuckle again. “I want to toy with you until you crack. And when you do, I want to suck the pleasure out of you until there’s nothing left but the will of you riding my hard nine-inch cock.”
Her cheeks burn red. She clenches her jaw.
“What’s the matter, Freckles? You’re dripping wet?” I wink at her, a smirk pulling at my mouth.
She tilts her head, unfazed. “No,” she says calmly. “Thatbeanin your pants doesn’t make me wet.”
A laugh breaks out of me. “Yeah, Freckles. Keep telling that to yourself.”
She stands, snapping her notebook shut. Her voice drops as she speaks, barely meant to reach me.
“That will be all for today.”
“Going home to touch yourself?” I ask. “You can do it right here.”
She slams the notebook onto the table so loudly that the sound cracks through the room.
“You narcissistic asshole,” she spits. “You’re the one who gets to dream about even touching someone like me, you idiotic buffoon.”
Her nose wrinkles when she’s angry, skin bunching slightly at the bridge. It does something to me. Any reaction does. I feed on it.
“Mark my words,” she says. “I will be the last thing you ever see and the one thing you’ll never touch, you psychopath.”
The light above us flickers. Once. Twice. Like the room itself is listening. I do nothing but watch her.
She is painfully beautiful. And she is the last trophy I need.
The light cuts out completely. The door buzzes, and the room drops into darkness.
She gasps.
I hear her chair scrape back, slow footsteps retreating from the table. I laugh softly as I force my thumbs, bones snapping free from the cuffs.
The sound of it carries to her as I take a few steps forward.
Before she can blink, I’m at her side, rolling my thumbs back into place.
“Say it again,” I whisper against her ear, my voice buried in her blond hair.
My hand closes around her jaw. I feel no pain as my skin touches hers.
She feels like silk.
I drag her back until the wall stops her, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. My hand clamps over her mouth as my fingers work to open the buttons of her shirt, slow and deliberate.
“Shh, Doctor,” I murmur, close enough that she feels the words more than hears them. She whimpers beneath my palm. “Make a sound, and I’ll take that pen on the table and open your throat with it.”
Her eyes widened. She nods.
I lift my hand from her mouth and let it trail down her chest, peeling fabric aside. I free one breast from the bra, feeling the warm skin under my fingers. With a low chuckle, I bend my head, dragging my tongue from the swell down to her nipple, circling it before grazing it with my teeth. Just enough to make her shudder.
My other hand slides under her skirt.
“No one will ever know,” I say, pressing my body against hers, boxing her in. “Everything’s off. There’s no way out.” I breathe the words into her neck, teeth sinking gently into her skin, breaking every rule I’ve laid out for her.
“Don’t,” she whimpers, trying to push my hand away as it slips higher beneath the skirt.
I catch her wrist and pin it above her head. My knee forces her legs apart, claiming the space between them. My fingers slide under the skirt again, nudging her thong aside.
