Page 195 of Broken by my Bully
“You’re sick,” I whisper, a tear falling free as I begin to shudder under his intense stare.
“That’s what you find so compelling, isn’t it?” he murmurs right back, a soft smile on his mouth as his hands slide around my waist.
He drops his head next to mine, chases his lips up the side of my neck as our eyes stay locked on each other’s reflections.
“The dark in you craves the dark in me,” he whispers.
His hands move around to my stomach, slide up, headed for my breasts. I snatch at his wrists, stopping him.
Every inch of my pussy is tingling. There’s a hard, pulsating ache radiating into my core with every thump of my panicked heart.
I can’t do this. Can’t let this happen. Not this.
I’ve got to be stronger than this, right?
“Feel that?” He grinds his dick against me. Once. Twice. “That’s what you do to me. What you’ve been doing since you walked into my classroom.”
“Bastian—”
He chuckles cruelly. “Don’t worry. Your sweet little cunt is safe for now.” His lips brush my ear. “I won’t fuck you yet, Haven. Not until you’re begging for it. Not until you’d do anything—absolutelyanything—to have me ruin you.”
One hand slides down. Cups my pussy through the silk.
I’m so wet that his grip leaves a dark patch on the exquisite fabric. I immediately buck into his hand, my eyes fluttering closed at the delicious pressure of his?—
Bastian pulls his hand away, leaving me with nothing.
Fuckingnothing.
I blink at him, clench my jaw, and shove a hand between my legs.I’ve barely touched myself before he grabs my wrist, ripping my hand away.
“Learn to control yourself, Haven,” he rasps.
I scoff. “Why bother when you’re so good at it already?”
His smile is anything but charming. “I am, aren’t I?”
Someone clears their throat on the other side of the curtain. “Everything alright in there, you two?”
“Perfect,” Bastian calls out, stepping back. Adjusting himself again. “We’ll take everything.”
“Everything?” I whisper.
His smile is as dark as his eyes. “I want it all.”
Bastian
The fitting room curtain swishes closed behind me. I pause for a moment to compose myself, a task made nearly impossible when I pick up on the sound of Haven’s shaky breathing on the other side. My cock is still painfully hard, pressing against my zipper like it wants to tear through the fabric and claim what’s mine, but thank God the store clerk is fussing over the display nearby and not looking in my direction.
This is all that fucking taco boy’s fault.
The way he looked at Haven, like she was something he could have. Like I wasn’t standing right there with my hand on her back, marking my territory in a language even a simpleton could’ve understood.
But worse was the way he looked atme.
There was recognition in his eyes.
Not ofwhoI am, but ofwhatI am.
