Page 52 of Writhe
His hands move lower, gliding over my shoulders, my arms, and my waist. His cock nudges at my entrance and he growls. “So wet. Your pussy is begging for its master.” He doesn’t go slow. He slams his cock inside of me. I cry out at the intrusion of him andwhimper as he allows no moment of adjustment. He hooks his fingers into my mouth, forcing me back to arch forcefully. The corners of my mouth burn at the stretch.
“Say it, and I will hold you—I will be gentle. If you refuse, then I will punish you.”
A sob fights its way up my throat. My body aches, my mind splintering. “I love you,” I whisper, the words foreign and acidic on my tongue.
His grip on my face tightens like he wants to crack me open and drink down the confession like wine. And then he turns my head and kisses me. Soft. Slow. Savoring.
Like he’s waited for this. Like he’s starving for it.
His mouth moves against mine with ownership. His tongue parts my lips, not forceful, not demanding, but coaxing. Taking. My body trembles as he pulls me flush against him, his warmth seeping into my bones.
“Again.” His voice is rough now, fraying at the edges.
I swallow hard, my pulse a deafening drum in my ears. “I love you,” I say louder, my voice shaking, breaking.
A low groan rumbles from his chest. His arms tighten around me, his hold bruising, branding. “That’s my good girl.”
His forehead presses against mine, his breath warm and uneven. “My perfect masterpiece.”
He tilts my chin, his lips trailing down my jaw, my throat, my shoulder, lingering there, reverent. Hishands skim my body, less demanding now, more indulgent, savoring every inch of me. His cock continues to pump inside of me, lovingly now. Still demanding with pressure, but I can chase my pleasure with this tempo.
“I have spent so long perfecting you, shaping you into what you were always meant to be. And now, you are finally mine. Completely mine.”
He feels inevitable.
A cold shiver ripples through me as his words settle deep in my bones, sinking into the cracks he has spent so long carving.
Completely mine.
But he’s wrong.
He thinks he has hollowed me out, replaced me with something of his own making. But inside. beneath the layers of obedience, beneath the conditioning, beneath the fear, there is still a part of me that is untouched. A part that belongs to me. A part that belongs to Theo.
He sees the flicker in my eyes, and his grip tightens.
“You’re still holding onto him, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer.
The silence is a mistake.
His hand moves, fingers tilting my chin, forcing my gaze to him. I hold my breath, willing myself not to flinch.
“You think he’ll come for you?” His lips twitch at the edges, amusement bleeding into his expression, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That he’ll storm in here like some foolish hero and take you away from me?”
The thought had crossed my mind.
But Theo isn’t here.
“I told you before, little one.” Two of his fingers find my clit and begin to rub agonizingly slowly as he thrusts into me like a wave, giving me just enough friction to not completely lose my mind. “You don’t need him anymore.”
The words slice through me, more brutal than any punishment he could inflict. I do need Theo. I want Theo. Where is Theo? My breath hitches, my vision blurring at the edges. He sees it—he knows—and that’s exactly what he wanted.
“Shh.” His fingers brush through my hair, a mockery of tenderness. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.”
I close my eyes, swallowing the scream building in my throat.
Because for the first time . . . I don’t know if he’s lying.
