Page 50 of Watch Me Burn
The slap lands hard across my ass when I don’t respond fast enough, echoing through the room. I bite down on my lip to stop the sound threatening to break free.
“Tell me.”
“He… he went down on me.” The confession tumbles out breathless, tangled with heat I can’t forget.
“Where?”
“In his living room. Against his window.”
My body tenses as I brace for rage and brutality. Instead, a sound that almost resembles approval rumbles from his chest.
“Did you come?” My hesitation earns me another slap, this one stinging worse than the first. “Did you come for him, Luna?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks on the word.
“How many times?”
“Once.”
He holds perfectly still behind me, hands anchored on my hips while seconds tick by. Then he’s guiding me forward, pushing me toward the bed.
“On your knees. Face down, ass up.”
I struggle onto the bed with my wrists bound. This spread-out position always brings a familiar mix of fear and anticipation.
The metallic clink of his belt opening fills the quiet room, followed by the sound of his zipper. The bed shifts as he climbs on, kneeling behind me. His hands find my hips again, gripping hard enough that I know I’ll wear his fingerprints tomorrow.
“You’re mine, Luna. Say it.” He drives into me without warning. I bury my face in the duvet, crying out as my body stretches around his thickness.
“I’m yours,” I manage between broken breaths as he moves.
His rhythm is punishment, each thrust shoving me forward on the mattress. I press my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds trying to escape while he takes me with relentless force. The zip ties bite into my wrists as I strain against them, the sharp ache mixing with pleasure when he hits that spot inside me over and over.
“Did you want him to fuck you like this?” His hand twists into my hair, yanking my head back. “Did you?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp, the truth spilling out.
“But you let him put his mouth on my pussy. You wanted it.”
“Yes.”
His pace turns savage, each thrust driving my body forward. Pleasure and pain crash together, tearing gasps from me with every stroke.
“You’re mine, Luna. Say it!”
“Yours.” The word tears out of me because denying it would be a lie.
“Again.”
“Yours.”
He slams into me, burying himself to the hilt. Then he drapes himself over my body, his chest pressed to my back, his mouth at my ear. “What’s mine?”
“My pussy.” The words come out sharp and clear, too loud in the quiet room, and he clamps his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t wake Maren.” He sinks his teeth into my earlobe. “What else is mine, little doe?”
“Every part of me,” I sob when he removes his hand.
