His fingers massaged me, rolling my nipple, petting me like I’d never been petted before. Instead of begging for it to be over, of disappearing into my mind where physical sensation couldn’t hurt me, I arched into his touch.
The second I pressed more of my flesh into his hand, he snapped.
His hips shot forward, pressing black trousers and shirt against my mostly naked form. His head fell downward, slamming soft, damp lips onto mine.
I moaned as he kissed me.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
Wet.
Whatever patience he had left was gone as the hardness of his erection seared my hip, and the teeth of his still-zipped fly scratched my thigh.
I wriggled to get closer.
He left his humanness behind and kissed me deeper. Bruises from my teeth indented my lips. My tongue fought his. Our tastes mingled with caramel and tequila.
Never in my life had I been kissed so tenderly but so viciously.
Never in my life had I willingly sought out the next stage—to have a body grow warm and wet, seeking more.
“Goddammit, Pimlico.” He wedged himself closer, his hand dropping from my breast and to the lace protecting the final piece of me. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he ripped them down my legs, contorting his body so his mouth continued to ravage mine while he stripped me.
I bent and flexed, and when the knickers were low enough down my legs, I kicked them off without waiting for instruction.
I kissed him back harder than before. I opened wider, licked deeper; I threw myself head first into new experiences, better existences, and a world I desperately wanted to be a part of.
My fingers landed on his belt, fumbling to undo it, tugging at his shirt.
He was still fully dressed.
I wasn’t dressed at all.
I was the one at mercy.
But then again…I wasn’t.
Having a black-clad seducer kiss me, all while shuddering with self-control didn’t make me vulnerable. Oh, no. It made me powerful. Brave. A queen being worshipped by a suitor she’d chosen, not a slave made to obey a wrathful master.
Elder captured my wrists, slamming my hands above my head. Tearing his mouth from mine, his lips glistened as he panted. “No.”
No?
No to what?
Touching him?
Pleasuring him?
Before I could ask, his free hand cupped between my legs. His full hand. His entire strong, elegant, cello-playing, wallet-stealing hand.
I flinched in desire.
I winced in fear.
I shook so hard his eyes lost the feral glint and turned liquid with understanding. “It’s me, Pim. Just me.”
Licking my lips, I nodded. Silence was once again my friend. I wouldn’t speak. I couldn’t. It took all my concentration to stay with him—to not fall down the rabbit hole.
His fingers tightened around me, making me gasp and squirm. The heat of being held in such a way scorched me until my clit throbbed for something, anything.
I wanted to run and hide.
I wanted to beg and ride.
I split in half with complications.
“You’re not ready.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I should stop this.”
I shook my head, arching up to bring his mouth back to me.
I kissed him.
That was my answer. I might not be entirely free to enjoy this, but I wanted it regardless. I wanted to experience all the firsts he’d talked about. I wanted pleasure to replace my pain.
Another tumbling groan fell from him into me as he wedged himself impossibly closer. The heel of his palm dug into my clit, sending rockets and missiles jettisoning through my belly.
Then his hand moved downward.
His fingers feathered over my pussy.
His touch explored until they found my entrance.
Everything froze.
Me.
Him.
Time.
Our lips never disengaged, but we didn’t move as he asked a silent question and earned a silent answer.
Do you really want this?
I-I think so…
Another long second while he deliberated and checked the chains around his self-control.
And then he touched me.
Invaded me.
Pressed one long, strong finger inside me with concession, possession, and pent-up aggression.
Everything else faded.
I hated it.
I loathed it.
I wanted it.
I needed it.
My body stretched to accommodate his invasion. His finger slim and firm.
My mind turned dirty.
Curse words. Swear words.
All I saw was red and velvet and smoke.
His finger kept going, claiming me from the inside out.
Holy shit.
I’d never been touched that way before. Fingers were used to check how dry I was or slap lube on places I never wanted to be violated.
Elder touched me so reverently, I forgot about all that. I deleted the screams and tears and focused only on how odd and perfect and strange and splendid it was.
My wrists grew hot beneath his finger-shackles. My breath grew shallow as he hooked his finger and rubbed some spot inside me that doubled the deliciousness I’d only just been introduced to.
My eyes flew wide, wanting to imprint everything. I couldn’t look away from his teeth clamped on his bottom lip and the erotic sway of his hips into mine. His trousers kept him bound, but it didn’t stop his erection from branding me.