It’s impossible to hide my true self, in all its flawed, stark, private bleakness, from her. I don’t think I could, even if I tried.
But uncomfortable as it is, I don’t mind Tess seeing me. I think I want her to see me.
“Go on. Is that good? You like my fingers in your greedy little hole?”
She moans and arches into me.
“You’re so wet.” I can’t believe how she’s pouring with desire. So responsive to my every touch. “You’d make it easy for my cock to slide right in, wouldn’t you?”
She closes her eyes and whines, her cheeks going pink.
“It’s okay,” I rasp. “I won’t tell anyone what a little slut you are for me. How you need to come after I catch you.”
I want to kiss her, but I don’t bridge the small gap between our mouths. It feels like that would be taking from her, not giving, and I’m not doing that.
She rocks against me and my erection might burst. But this isn’t about me.
“Such a good captive, accepting her punishment so sweetly.” I keep rolling my thumb over her clit and grip the inside of her passage harder as I thrust in and out. “You can’t stop the pleasure,” I whisper to her, a devil on her shoulder. “Give into it. Let me feel you come all over my fingers. I want it, Tess.”
I push my erection against her, and we both moan.
“Show me how your tight little pussy feels when your kidnapper has forced you to come for him like a good girl.”
She breaks and crumples all at once, clamping down on my fingers as she screams, her sopping pussy spasming as she comes for me. She tightens so much she might cut off my blood supply.
I don’t stop. I hold her up as her legs give out and the pleasure racks through, ruining her.
“That’s it, go on. You’re such a good girl for me,” I tell her as she shakes in my arms.
I just drink her in. All that beauty. The sweet way her nose scrunches as she’s lost in pleasure. So pretty, my girl.
Then I carry her back to the house.
15
TESS
Every time I blink I relive the way Kirill ate me up with his silver eyes as he effortlessly made me come, like I’m an instrument tuned especially to him. Today has followed the same pattern of yesterday, except he didn’t claim another wish to carry me back to the house.
And I didn’t fight him.
We’re in his office, which is also a library. I’m on the sofa, he’s at his computer. I’m not on his lap.
Unfortunately.
He has two more wishes, and what I don’t understand is that he hasn’t taken anything for himself in our games.
Call me cynical, but I imagined that a kidnapper would get some sexual gratification from his captive. But Kirill must have blue balls and self-control like a machine.
I’ve had mind-altering orgasms, been spoiled with new clothes, been given all the books I wanted, and the reading time to indulge in them, and had the best food of my life arrive by magic.
I have to reluctantly conclude that I may have been wrong about my kidnapper. He’s a violent and unhinged serial killer, but he’s got a kind streak as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.
I don’t understand why he hasn’t taken what he threatened. He said if he won that he’d put me on my knees. He said he’d fuck me until I couldn’t walk. Instead, I’m pleasantly buzzing between the legs, but hardly sore like if he used that massive cock on me.
I try to refocus on the hockey romance open on my e-reader. I’ve been thinking about Kirill for so long the screen has gone to sleep.
“You’re huffing.” Kirill’s deep, irritated voice echoes across the room.
