"I know," I acknowledge, instead of giving permission. A vindictive smile stretches my mouth, until I’m nearly baring my teeth at him. "How does it feel to know you'll never have all of me again? Not after what you've done."
My monster’s shadows falter, and for a moment, I see the agony in his eyes, the desperation. "Evie, please... "
But I shake my head, ruthless in my desire to hurt him as he hurt me. "No. You don't get to beg. You are here to serve."
I can feel myself drip down my thighs and on the chair as he works me. My lower belly clenches and my head floats with sublime dizziness and lust.
The shadow inside me thickens, sliding faster, the pulsing rhythm intensifying until I’m drenched, my skin feverish, my thighs trembling, on the verge of splintering into pieces. A smaller, textured ribbon rubs over my clit with quick strokes.
I ride the edge of my climax, teetering on the brink, but I hold back, denying myself the release I crave. Because this is about power, about control. About taking back a piece of myself, even if it's a jagged, broken thing.
"More," I whisper.
He continues the same unhurried but persistent rhythm.
My eyes snap down to him as he watches me with crimson eyes. His claws have sunk into his own thighs until black blood slides down them. At least he understands he's not to touch himself.
"More," I command.
"Yes, my queen," he rumbles, a tension building in his pace and his words.
He obeys, but his anger surges with it, the tendrils snapping around my ankles, spreading me wider until I’m nearly torn in two, lifting my body up from the chair, holding me suspended, helpless but on display. The shadow tendril inside me engorges again but in evenly spaced lumps. My slick channel stretches as he pumps into me faster and faster.
His shadows fill me, relentless, pushing me to a place that’s both blindingly painful and exquisite. I can feel every ridge of him, every pulse.
"I want to stick my tongue all the way up into that sweet cunt," he snarls, his voice a dark, desperate promise.
A wanton moan escapes me.
"Please let me, Evie," he begs.
"My queen," I correct in a strangled voice.
"My queen," he repeats. "Let me taste you, let me fuck you."
My laughter is bitter, broken. "You think this changes anything?" I gasp out, my voice a rasp, yet brimming with mockery. "You think you can fuck your way back into my trust?"
Shadow's eyes blaze with a tormented heat, his shadows faltering in their relentless onslaught. "Evie, I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect?—"
"Liar," I snarl, clenching around his shadows, using my body as a weapon, a cruel taunt. He grunts. Eyes blood-red with fury.
"You controlled me. Used me."
And now I’m using you.
The pace turns brutal, Shadow’s thick tendrils thrust harder, every movement punishment and release. The little ribbon attacks my clit with inhuman speed. I claw at the chair, my body arching, surrendering even as my heart refuses, and when the pleasure finally detonates, it’s a white-hot spiral, sharp and exquisite, tearing me open.
The ecstasy crashes over me, leaving me shuddering, my body slick and trembling, every nerve ending aflame. The walls seem to pulse in time with my racing heartbeat, the whole room thrumming with its own dark satisfaction, as if it too has enjoyed my release.
As I come down, he slows, his shadows easing out, but I hold myself together, forcing myself to stay on the edge, to keep the power even as my body weakens.
"Now thank me," I command, my voice brittle as I right myself in the chair. My entire body is spent, but defiance still animates me.
“Thank you, my queen.” The way he grinds the words out is intoxicating, a strained politeness that tells me just how close he is to breaking. I’ve stripped his control from him, and his fury only makes me stronger.
I swipe hair from my sweaty face, faking composure I don’t feel, and let my gaze flick over him with what I hope is an imperious derision.
"You're welcome," I say, in a lofty tone.
