Hell. Freaking. No.
11
ELOWYN
“What I can and cannot survive is none of your business.”
Duncan’s eyebrow quirks. “Little Elowyn finally grew a backbone.”
At the sound of my low, furious growl, something unexpected happens. Duncan’s eyes warm. His smirk isn’t as malicious.
Pathetic. One ounce of kindness, and I melt.
“What do you want?” I whisper, my throat too tight to speak any louder. “Really, what do you want?”
“You know what I want.” The frown that follows tells me he didn’t mean for softness to slip in. “You’ve been a good girl. You soaked the tip of my bone folder, the one I usually use to smooth seams on broken pieces. Now it finally has another purpose. Rub your clit on it, Elowyn. Make yourself feel good.”
I return his frown. “It’ll never feel good.”
“We’ll see about that.” Duncan silences the rest of my arguments by wrapping both hands around my waist.
Carefully, he tilts his body so it’s partly curled over mine, guiding me to roll my hips back and forth. To use the bone folder to pleasure myself.
His attention, I’ve missed it. I want it. I resent it.
“What about now? Feel good yet?” Even while taunting me, he looks genuinely curious.
“Not at all,” I lie, desperately biting back a moan.
As long as he’s like this, I won’t tell him it doesn’t just feel good. It’s too good.
“Now?”
“Stop it.” This isn’t fair, that he knows that smaller, faster thrusts will drive me closer to an orgasm. My thighs quiver in an effort not to come. I work so hard to be as cold to him as he is to me. “Stop being so awful.”
“Truly awful.” Duncan has his bottom lip caught by his teeth, his mask slipping. “Is that why”—he tilts his head, eyes wandering down my body, between my legs—“your thighs are soaked?”
“Here’s a question for you.” Dammit, these moans are impossible to suppress. “For a person intent on torturing me, I’d say you’re doing a terrible job. Orgasms.” I gasp the word I’ve never spoken out loud. “They’re kind of a reward. Or did the women you slept with never tell you that?”
“Not that it’s any of your business.” His fingers bite into my flesh. His attention is cutting. “But for the past eleven years, I haven’t been with anyone.Anyone.”
Since his first girlfriend in high school.
Around the time I turned sixteen.
Heat floods my cheeks. My pussy grows more sensitive. Clenching and unclenching.
Needing.
“About these orgasms,” he snaps, as if neither he nor I is allowed this moment of relief. Of tenderness. “You think that’s what I’m after? Did I say you were allowed to come a second time?”
“Duncan…”
“The answer is no.” He leans closer, bites my shoulder, then sucks on the sensitive area. “You can’t.”
Combined with the bone folder on my clit, the pain doesn’t sting at all. It’s delicious. It’s everything.
I’m moaning. Writhing. Heat rushes through my body, my pussy clenching.
