Her Savior (Beauty and the Captor 2) - Page 24

So, I kept my eyes on the floor when he came close, and I resisted the urge to jerk away from him when he reached out and brushed his fingers over my nipples. They were already hard from the cold and friction, but his touch did nothing to stir arousal inside me.

“Yes, I like you like this, slave,” he said. “Now, look at me.”

I raised my head and forced eye contact. The coldness in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

“That’s it. I want you to keep looking at me with those pretty, green eyes. Do not look away, or my fingers in your ass will seem like a mere tickle in comparison to what I’ll shove in there next. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, sir.” My whole body was shaking so hard the shackles on my wrists and ankles clattered loudly.

“Don’t be afraid. What I’m going to do isn’t going to hurt one bit.”

Somehow his words weren’t reassuring.

One hand slipped between my thighs and he cupped my sex with the palm of his hand. My pleas hovered on my tongue, but I held them there. I wanted to look away or close my eyes, but I kept them locked on him while silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

He knelt down in front of me, forcing me to look down to maintain eye contact. And that meant I could see his hand on me, too. The tears fell faster. I didn’t want him touching me. I wasn’t his. He wasn’t my master. He wasn’t allowed to be touching me.

When his fingers fastened on my clit, I tried to jerk away, but I was stuck there. I couldn’t stop him as he started to rub. He moved in slow, languid circles at first. I wanted to scream at him to get his hands off me, but I had to keep it in. Obey and stay alive for Derek. That was all that mattered.

His fingers moved faster, and his other hand slipped between my thighs. A finger ran along my sex. Then he was inside me. God, no, I didn’t want him inside me. He stroked my inner walls as his fingers on my clit picked up their pace.

Then I felt it.

No. No. No. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to respond to him. It was just a flicker, my traitorous body’s innate response to physical stimulation, but it was sick. Wrong. Disgusting.

His pace increased and he leaned in to graze his teeth along my inner thigh. No matter how much I didn’t want it to, it sent a ripple of heat through my sex. Please no. This couldn’t be happening.

“Yes, that’s it, slave. You’re just a little slut, aren’t you?” He eyed me, expecting an answer.

“No, sir,” I whispered miserably. I wanted to disappear. It would have been better if I’d never existed than to be humiliated like this.

“We’ll see,” he said and then leaned up and nipped at my nipple.

More heat. I gritted my teeth, fighting it, trying to extinguish the flames. It was no use. He moved expertly. I cried harder the hotter the fire got. I couldn’t take this. His whip I could survive, not this. Not this.

“Stop!” I screamed. “Please stop.”

He moved faster, ignoring my pleas. His finger drove into me, slamming against my sex with every stroke, and making wet, smacking sounds. Oh god, it was me. It was my own wetness. My breath was coming faster by the second as heat coiled low in my abdomen. I wasn’t going to be able to stop it. I was crying frantically. I couldn’t see him through the blur of steady tears, but my body wouldn’t stop. It was too damn close.

“Come, slave.”

All of a sudden, the coil sprung free and my release rippled out from my treacherous sex. I’d never been more humiliated or felt more betrayed. My own body had betrayed me. And despite how hard I’d tried to hide it, his smile made it clear I’d failed. He knew exactly what he’d coerced from my body.

“Yes, you are most definitely my little slut.”

He stood up and shoved his fingers in front of my face—fingers that glistened with the proof that he was right.

“Rule number four: A slave will come when she’s told,” he said as he shoved his wet fingers into my mouth.

I’d tasted myself before—on Derek’s fingers and on his tongue—but the salty sweetness was vile now, it made my stomach roil with nausea.

“Unfortunately, you forgot about the other rules, didn’t you?”

What? No. What was he talking about?

I realized what he was talking about the moment he bent down and reached for the shackles that imprisoned my ankles. I’d cried out, I’d begged him to stop when he’d turned my body against me. My whole body tensed now against the lashes that were about to set a fresh fire blazing across my back.

Tags: Nicole Casey Beauty and the Captor Erotic
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