Page 202 of Ruin Me Gently

The way his voice broke on his plea sent heat rushing straight to my pussy, wetness pooling in my underwear before I could even think.

“Hmm.” I tapped a finger against my lips, pretending to think. “Okay.”

Then, I spun and walked away.

I locked the door and turned, leaning with my back against it, the solid wood pressing into my spine.

Silas stood there, at the opposite end of the room. His chest stuttering in uneven breaths, his forehead damp, dark curls clinging slightly to his temples. His lips were parted and flushed. And his cock—standing hard and heavy between us, slick from my hand, still pulsing with the releases I’d denied him.

I let my head tilt back against the door, dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, letting the moment stretch, making sure he felt every damn second of it.

“Now,” I smirked. “Let’s try this again.”

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

“You said you’d doanything, hmm?”

I swallowed hard, gasping in shallow lungfuls of air as I nodded. “Yes.”

Her smirk widened, and I swear to God, the edges of it dug right into my spine like a brand.

She didn’t move closer. Didn’t reach for me. Didn’t need to.

Because she already had me.

Her eyes swept over me slowly, and she wet her lips, before biting the bottom one lightly. “To your knees.”

What?

A shiver rolled through my body.

Defiance or devotion.

Fear or fucking reverence.

I didn’t know which had me standing there, frozen in place, cock throbbing, body tight with the need to obey, to drop, to surrender.

“You’re not being very good for me.” She let the words linger, let me absorb them, let the shameful weight press into my skin. “I said. To your knees.”

Her fingers traced up her thighs, slow and deliberate, nails scraping slightly over the fabric of her dress, and my legs buckled, palms and knees hitting the hardwood.

“Good. That’s better.”

A violent shock of heat shot straight through me.

Her head tilted as she smiled. Predatory. Amused. In control.

She knew exactly what she was doing—exactly how wrecked I was.

My fists clenched against the floor, barely restraining the instinct to wrap a hand around my cock right there like a fucking animal.

“Now crawl.”

The command hit me like a physical force, slamming into my chest, punching the oxygen from my lungs.

Crawl. Fuck.

This wasn’t just control. This was a claim. And I wanted it.

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