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“Hello, there.” That bear-growly voice of his should be illegal. “Place your fucking palms on the wall and keep them there until I say not to. Do you need more incentive?”
I’d flinched at the fucking. Wimp.
He pinched one of my nipples between finger and thumb and squeezed.
Gasping, and in increasing pain, I slumped as far as I could go with my nipple his hostage. That I’d become even wetter horrified me.
The pain dazzled. Like the cut of a scythe, it separated me from everything else that had happened before, from all the terrible things that might happen. All that mattered was him, concentrated. Distilled male.
Still unsure why, and what the hell I was doing, I crept my hands onto the wall. I felt the dips between the smooth square tiles. Water dribbled down my skin. His hand stayed on my jaw as did his crushing hold on my breast. And I loved it.
All those games we’d played meant nothing when he was like this. I saw him for what he truly was. I was dealing with the devil.
“Correct response. But slow. You will be punished for that.”
Desire rippled into me, and I shivered for a full second. Visibly shivered. His threat had done that. Since when had I been into pain?
“You like that?” His eyebrow arched. “You like the threat of pain?”
“No.” My denial was automatic, but I couldn’t stop the tiny swallow that followed. He’d figured me out before I did.
His thumb swept across to my mouth then he curled out my lip as if checking the teeth of a bought creature.
Awareness blossomed in his eyes, a smug satisfaction that half made me want to wipe it away. But the other half of me wanted to do anything he asked.
“Liar,” he murmured, stretching out my nipple, eliciting another gasp. “Pretty liars get hurt anyway. Say thank you.”
My eyes widened. Then he shifted his hand, hooked two fingers into my mouth, and leaned that elbow on the wall behind my head. “Say thank you.”
I wriggled in his grip.
“Say thank you.”
“No, no –”
His fingers hooked deeper in, brushing my tongue. I was crushed, desire annihilating thought. My thank you tumbled out. Tears leaked and dribbled down my cheeks. This was insane.
He pulled his hand from my mouth and held my throat to the wall while he shoved his other hand between my legs, fingers curving along in my moisture and making me part my legs. Then he lifted me an inch or so. My back slid on tile, rekindling pain. I was pinned there, throat and pussy. A needy moan escaped my lips.
I wanted this, I did, but I was afraid. Who would stop him, this monster of a man, if he went too far? He could burn me down to the ground if he so chose. Want and sensible were at war.
“We can’t have sex.” I managed to gasp out, my throat moving against his hand. We couldn’t because of Gregor. What a time to remember where we were. I did what was becoming a habit, I blanked it out.
“I can think of a hundred thousand other things I could do with you. All of them dirty. I own you, Miss Jazmine. Starting with this.”
Own. The word stunned me. His predatory smile widened.
Then he kissed me.
I’d never been kissed before while someone held me down. This, this was what I’d been missing. Overwhelming mind-shaking passion. A desire so strong that it made someone want to hold you still while they used your mouth, abused your mouth, and ravaged you with teeth, tongue, and fingers.
Pieter was a storm not a man, a living, breathing, biting force of nature and I let him sweep me away.
“You know what?” he said at last, his words murmured beside my ear. I was trembling and only held up by his hands on my body.
I looked out through a tangle of his hair. Someone’s hair was in my mouth. Whose, I didn’t know or care, as I was too busy struggling to breathe. We were both sweating, our bodies sliding one on the other, his rock-hard chest squashing my breasts. At some point he’d ripped off his shirt and he’d done it so fast I’d barely registered the act.
“What?” I mumbled, and I gathered the strength to tongue out the stray twist of hair. “What did you say?” No sex allowed and here I was aching to get him inside me.
