“I don’t know you!”
“No?”
His response sends a shiver of awareness through me. From the moment I heard his voice tonight, it stirred a whisper of a memory. But it wasn’t just that. It’s the way the air shifted around him, charged like a storm was on the horizon. I couldn’t see him, but Ifelthim. Every cell in my body recognized his presence and the craving I never could let go.
Except, it can’t be him.
So who is he?
He slips his free hand beneath my dress, skimming the fabric up my thighs and draping it around my waist. My brain registers how exposed I am when a low sound vibrates from his chest, like he’s been thinking about this moment for a long time.
His palm glides over my hips and down to the curve of my ass, grabbing a handful and giving it a smack. It lights up every pleasure receptor I have and sends a confusing mixture of fear and desire through me.
My mind is at war, torn between surrendering to the thrill or fighting for survival. In this scenario, I’m completely vulnerable to him, and if I’m being honest, there’s something intoxicating about that. It’s a primal desire—the idea of being chased, captured, and dominated by the strongest predator—only for him to become the protector.
He feeds into that power when he slides his hand between my legs and uses his fingers to spread me apart. It’s indecent and humiliating, but that’s the point.
“I guess you do like it.” His thumb barely grazes me, and a rush of pleasure licks down my spine. “You’re dripping wet.”
“You have a filthy mouth.” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on my breathing.
“That was me being polite,” he murmurs. “Have you let him touch you here?”
His thumb circles my clit, sending sparks shooting through me. Even as my life hangs in the balance, that possessive edge in his voice twists me up in knots. He acts like he owns me—and there’s something so unhinged about that. But even worse is the way my body responds.
“Would you let him watch as I stretch you open with my cock?” His voice dips, the words settling right between my thighs.
I bite back an answer. If I give him what he wants, that means he’ll win this stupid game. But as he continues to torture me with the slow, rhythmic circles, my resolve wavers. Maybe it’s the torrent of fear and a desperate need for safety, or maybe I’m just broken. Either way, I’m chasing the release even as every muscle in my body burns. The longer he draws it out, the worse it gets.
My arms feel numb from being stretched behind me, and my hips ache from the hard railing beneath them. I’m dizzy, terrified, and conflicted, but more than anything, I’m dying for relief.
“Would you get on your knees for me in front of him?” He punctuates the question with so much delicious pressure, it produces an ungodly sound from my throat. “Would you swallow my cock like a good girl?”
Those feral words send a current of heat straight through my core, and I know he feels the clench between my thighs. He’s taunting me, and he’s enjoying it way too much for my liking. I give him nothing, but he punishes me for it, removing the weight of his fingers and leaving me cold.
A grunt of frustration leaves me. “You’re an asshole.”
“And?” he drawls.
I press my lips together. I shouldn’t say it. I still have some dignity left?—
“Answer the question.” He smacks my pussy, and I gasp, the words falling right out of my mouth.
“Yes, okay.” I swallow. “I’d let you do it. Are you happy now?”
A dark sound of approval reverberates through him. “Very.”
The warmth of his voice floods my body with heat, like I did something good. It feels like I’ve earned a reward when he resumes his sweet torture, the smooth leather of his glove circling me exactly where I need him.
Stupidly, I open my eyes again, and the sight of the long drop below sends another shot of terror through me. I’m either going to pass out, or I’m going to come.
As I’m considering it, he lowers me another inch over the ledge, and a scream rips from my lungs.
“Are you scared yet?” he asks.
Tears leak from my eyes as my entire body trembles beneath him.
He lowers me another inch.
