I need you to use me. I need you to hurt me.
Istare at the string of messages on my lock screen. All to GentAnon. Nothing from Abigail to Dane.
I won’t log on to answer her desperate pleas, no matter how hard my own unslaked lust is riding me.
I’d been so careful not to spook her. I’d been the perfect gentleman. And even though I usually prefer kinkier sexual games, I’m expert in manipulating women’s bodies. I know exactly how and where to touch to wring pleasure from them.
But Abigail faked her orgasm.
I’d been right when I’d sensed that she was in pain. But based on her hungry kisses and soft whimpers, I’d assumed she was enjoying a twinge of discomfort that accompanied penetration.She’d been so tight around my finger, and I’d almost lost my control at the thought of her cunt squeezing my dick.
But she hadn’t softened and opened to accept me. She’d been rigid and tense when I’d expected her to melt for me.
Our chemistry has never been a problem. I don’t understand what happened between us. All I know is that this particularfeelingthat’s assailing me is familiar, and I don’t like it.
My teeth are clenched as tightly as my fists, and my muscles are bunched as though I’m preparing to fight. Or I’m bracing to take a blow to my gut.
Fury.
I force my fingers to unfurl so that I can pick up my glass of whisky. When I lift it to my mouth, I catch the faint scent of her pussy that lingers on my hand.
My cock is painfully hard, despite my rage.
I’m tormented by thoughts of how I want to punish her for lying to me. For daring to fake her pleasure with me.
She treated me as though I’m some simple fool with a fragile ego that she has to placate.
I grimace around a long draw of Macallan.
The next time I have my hands on her, she’ll shatter for me.
I saw the way her pupils dilated when I loomed over her, barely containing my wrath. She’d wanted me more in that moment of fear than in the entirely of the time I’d been kissing her so tenderly.
My darkness calls to hers.
Handling her with care had been a stupid fucking mistake.
When I allow her to come back to me, she’ll come crawling on her hands and knees.
She will beg for my touch before I grant her the mercy of release.
So, I won’t respond to her messages. She can stew in what she’s done. I want her twisted up in knots that only I can loosen by the time I reach out to her again.
I toss back the last of my whisky and will the alcohol to burn away my maddening lust.
It doesn’t help. My desire for her is a fanged beast with sharp black claws that rip at my mind, shredding rationality and reason. I’m feral for her, but I won’t be the first to break.
Only when I’m satisfied that she’s thoroughly sorry and utterly desperate, I’ll crook my finger, and she’ll come running like my eager, obedient little pet. She’ll offer her slender neck for my collar, and she’ll worship at my feet.
I’ll settle for nothing less than her absolute devotion and complete submission.
19
ABBY
I’ve barely slept in a week, and the desperation is starting to show on my face—in the dark circles under my eyes and dullness of my skin. Whenever exhaustion pulls me under, erotic nightmares of the masked man’s attack torment me. He always peers at me with burning green eyes. Dane’s eyes.
The man I want but can never have. I was a fool to ever think I might be capable of mastering my dark perversions so that I could be with my white knight.