My head turns back in time to see him step to my side, then crouch close to the pedestal.
“Take what?”
“Pleasure.”
As the word leaves his mouth, a war breaks out between my head and my body.
The former demands a reason, any reason, for why Duncan would want me to come again when he doesn’t act like a lover would.
The latter is already thrumming, aching for him to start. For Duncan to touch me.
You should run.
Absolutely not. Stay.
“All done.” He cuts through my thoughts, patting my ass before he sets the roll on the floor. “Be a good girl and sit on it.”
As if woken from a trance, I blink once. Twice. “Excuse me?”
“I said…” His large hand is warm as he flattens it over the curve of my back. “Sit on it. Take the tip in, Elowyn.”
His words don’t make sense until they do.
Until he presses on my back, lowering my hips. Until I feel it.
“No!” That part-pointy, part-smooth tip nudges at my pussy lips. My mouth gapes, everything in me hating being turned on by it. But I can’t get up. Duncan won’t let me. “I can’t lose my virginity like this. Don’t—you can’t use that on me.”
Fire blazes in his eyes. The pressure on my back loosens.
I’ve managed to surprise him.
There’s no satisfaction in it, though. None. Because if he thought I’d been able to get over him, does it mean he’s been with other women?
I try to snuff out the jealousy. The indignation that paints the world red.
For the most part, I’m able to do it.
He doesn’t owe me anything. And he’s not with these other women now.
He’s with me.
My head understands. My heart aches anyway.
“Over and over, you test me.” The sarcastic edge in his tone snaps me back to the present. “To what end? To break our deal so you and your brother end up out on the street? A sheltered princess like you wouldn’t last a day out there.”
That does it. That fucking does it.
How dare he insinuate that I’m incompetent.
He has no idea what I’ve endured. My brother’s rage. The screaming. The fear.
He wasn’t there when I was assaulted either. And even though Barclay saved me, I’m the one who’s had to live with it. The memories. The trauma. The weight of the past ten years.
Last but not least, I’m surviving him. His madness. His cruelty. This sick jealousy of the invisible women that’s poisoning my blood.
So to have him call me weak?
Hell no.
