Page 30 of Brutal Unionn
And it’sthat—the danger coiled behind his submission—that makes my body betray me every time.
I exhale through my nose, slow and controlled, though my pulse says otherwise. My voice drops into something low and syrupy.
“Maybe I missed the sound of your screams,” I say, lifting the remote and pressing play. His groan echoes again through the speakers—raw and sweet.
“Or maybe,” I continue, “I just needed a reminder of how easy it is to make you beg.”
A low chuckle vibrates through the phone, and I picture him lounging somewhere damp and illegal, shirtless, blood still drying on his skin. “Begging is a strong word,Hime.I remember giving you what you wanted.”
“You gave me what Itook,” I snap, just sharp enough to make him inhale.
He hums, lazy and deep. “Then take more.”
The line goes quiet for a beat. My breath catches in that silence. I can feel him grinning, canfeelthe heat of him through the phone.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, voice rough velvet. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
I roll my eyes, but the shiver that moves down my spine betrays me. His voice always does this—sliding beneath my skin like a blade wrapped in silk.
“Do you really think you deserve that,” I purr, “after you left me tied up and naked in Tokyo?”
“You want me to beg?” Sho’s voice is low, a dark rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. I can almost feel it, the way his words wrap around me like a vice, tightening with every syllable.
I bite my lip, my fingers trailing over my thigh in slow, deliberate circles. “I like when you beg,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost see the smirk playing on his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice thickening with desire, “you like it more when my cock is inside of you.”
My breath catches in my throat, heat flooding my body as his words sink in. “Sho—” I start, but he cuts me off with a growl.
“Now,” he commands, the edge in his voice sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
I shift on the couch, tucking my feet beneath me as I feel the familiar ache between my legs. “You’ve seen it before,” I murmur, my fingers brushing over the hem of my white T-shirt. “White T-shirt. No bra. Bare legs. Knife on the table. My thighs?—”
“Pressed together,” he finishes, his tone smug. “Because of me.”
A flush rises to my cheeks, and I hate how right he is. My thighs are pressed together, the tension building with every word he speaks. “You sound awfully confident,” I say, my voice sweet but sharp, “for someone who was crying on tape.”
“I wasn’t crying,” he says, a little too quickly. “I was on the verge of blacking out from all the edging you were doing.”
I bark out a laugh, but it doesn’t stop the ache growing between my legs. My fingers trail lower, brushing over the sensitive skin just above my knee. “Is that so?” I tease, my voice dripping with mock innocence. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looked like you were begging for mercy.”
“Mercy?” Sho scoffs, his voice darkening. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
I can feel the heat radiating from his words, and it only makes me want to push him further. My fingers dip between my thighs, brushing over the damp fabric of my panties. “Maybe not,” I admit, my voice trembling slightly. “But I do know how to make you scream.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and I can’t help but smile. “Is that a challenge?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
“It’s a promise,” I reply, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. The moment my fingertips brush against my slick folds, a soft moan escapes my lips.
“Fuck,” Sho growls, his voice rough with desire. “I can hear you, Nadia. Every little sound you make.”
My breath hitches as I slide a finger inside myself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through my body. “Good,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” he demands, his voice thick with lust.
I close my eyes, focusing on the way my body responds to his words. “I’m touching myself,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thinking about you.”
“What about me?” he presses, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
