Page 37 of Redemption

His darkly perverse command shudders through me, and I weep into the messy painting we’ve made. The pleasure is so keen that it cuts my heart like a knife. My core is swollen and achy, as though his gentle fingers have marked me with bruises deep inside my pussy.

But, true to his word, he hasn’t harmed me physically.

My soul is another matter entirely.

Ecstasy gathers low in my belly, and all of my muscles coil tight in anticipation of release. Sweat slicks my skin, and soft moans leave my chest with every heaving breath.

“Let go,” he urges. “Give me everything.”

I come apart on a scream, and his name echoes through the studio he’s provided for me.

“Good girl.” His warm praise layers over my sharp cry, and he pumps his fingers into me, drawing out my orgasm.

My scream melts into a sob, and I shake beneath him. I’m utterly spent and shattered beyond repair.

Dane commanded me to paint for him, and despite my refusal, he’s compelled me to make a shameful, carnal work of art.

10

DANE

One Month Ago

I’ve been messaging Abigail as GentAnon for several agonizingly long weeks. Meanwhile, she only exchanges rote pleasantries with me at the café every morning.

I know her deepest, darkest secrets, but she acts like she barely knows me.

She doesn’t realize that I’ve learned more about her than she’d ever divulge if I approached her as charming, “normal” Dr. Dane Graham.

I’m so close to claiming her.

But I have to be absolutely certain of our chemistry. I have to prove to her that she craves these twisted games. When I do finally approach her, she’ll be ready to accept our connection.

And I’m tired of keeping things virtual. All those nights alone in my bed while exchanging dirty desires with her have made me restless. The imbalance of power chafes at my pride. I would do anything to possess her, but she barely acknowledges my existence.

I’ll prove to her how deep my devotion goes. I’ll give her everything she wants, and she’ll realize that she can be her true, unmasked self around me.

Just like I crave to share all of myself with her.

My civilized mask has never felt so heavy, a burden that I no longer want to bear.

It’s past time for me to make my move in person. I’ve acquired enough knowledge to seduce her in exactly the way she craves.

My hunting knife is sheathed at my belt, and the appropriately intimidating skull mask is securely in my fist. Abigail wants to be frightened. I wonder how wet she’ll get for me when she realizes her helplessness to resist the pleasure I’ll wring from her fragile body.

Just the thought is enough to make me hard, so I take a breath and struggle to master my rising lust. I’m hidden in the shadows of the breezeway to her building, and I’m further concealed by my head-to-toe black clothing.

Appropriately intimidating.

This is her final test, the last night I’ll spend without her in my bed.

I’m not stupid enough to give away my identity, though. Until I know how she’ll react, I can’t risk her knowing who I am.

I’ve swapped out my usual expensive scent for a cheap, heavy amber cologne. And I can do a convincing enough American accent that she won’t recognize my gravelly voice. The leather gloves are for sensory stimulation—the implication that I don’t want to leave fingerprints heightens the sense of erotic danger.

It’s a shame that I won’t be able to feel her bare skin against mine, but I can forego that desire to fulfil this fantasy for her. There will be plenty of time for me to touch and explore at my leisure soon.

I’m practiced at picking the lock on her front door now. It only takes a few seconds to gain clandestine entry to her apartment.

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