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“You’ll give me whatever the fuck I want.”
I try to shake my head, but I can’t. He’s holding me in place.
What’s worse—it doesn’t hurt at all. It actually, kinda… feelsgood.
The hell is wrong with me?
“Let’s get one thing straight, Clara Everett.” Demyen over-enunciates every consonant in my name as he leans in closer. “You. Belong. To. Me.”
My heart slams inside my chest. But my God, am I feeling stubborn. “I’m not your fucking plaything.”
Those fingers tug just a fraction harder. And instead of wincing or whimpering or squinting in pain, Imoan.
I fuckingmoan.
Demyen’s face breaks into a wicked smirk. “Oh, I beg to differ.”
“Please.” I sputter to regain some traction, some shred of dignity before it completely vanishes. “I’m sorry. I forgot—I’ll be good, I promise.”
He clicks his tongue at me. “Tsk tsk. You said that before. You promised me you’d be good so you could see your sweet daughter. What will Willow think when Mommy isn’t there for her playdate?”
My eyes widen in horror. “No! Please, I’ll do anything!”
“That’s my fucking point, Clara.” He gives another slight tug just for emphasis. “You’ll do anything and everything I say because you don’t have a fucking choice.”
This time, I try to nod even with his fist in my hair.
Demyen’s gaze lowers to my trembling lips. “I wanted to go easy on you. Let you prove yourself. Let you show you mean it. While I show the world who you belong to.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I bite my bottom lip to stop it from trembling so much.
His other hand leaves the column and cups my face. With an odd gentleness, his thumb eases my lip from my teeth and remains there, massaging the swollen flesh.
“You owe me.” Demyen leans in closer. “Which means I own you. If I tell you to get me a drink, you bring me a drink. If I tell you to go out there and bend over the table, you’ll spread those beautiful legs and bend over the fucking table. If I tell you to scream my name while I fuck you open in front of the whole party, you’ll do it and beg me for more. Am I understood?”
Fuck.
I’m squirming. And it’s not because I’m scared.
His hands ease from my hair and slide down my neck to caress my sides. I feel him pluck at the delicate chains before he presses and caresses under the slinky fabric.
“Is that what you want?” A darkly amused smile tugs at his lips. “Is that what my good girl wants? You want me to fuck you hard in front of everyone? Show the world who owns you?”
God help me.
I do. I kinda, really do.
I won’t say it, though. Never inthislifetime. No matter how hot the inferno now dripping between my thighs burns, no matter how much his silky smooth voice rumbles such dark promises against my skin as he presses his lips to the rapid pulse below my ear…
“You’d enjoy it. I promise.”
His teeth capture my lobe and softly tug.
I let out a whimper. My hips writhe against the column. “Please…”
“Please, what?” Demyen moves a hand even lower and presses between my thighs. The moment his palm cups my mound, his fingers teasing my slit, I shudder. He feels how wet I am for him and the look on his face is pure pride.
The heel of his palm kneads into my mound, teasing but not quite rubbing my clit. His fingers stroke back and forth over my lips, coaxing more delicious tremors from me and another pitiful moan.
