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“Hurt me.”
I don’t think about the words before I say them… I don’t think about them as I say them. It’s once they’re in the air and he’s slamming into me that I feel a rush of shame, embarrassment. It’s fucked to ask to be hurt during what should be something beautiful. It’s proof of how unhinged I am—a classic study in victims of sexual abuse.
I’m not hiding anything from him anymore, laying it all out for him to see every ugly piece of me.
And to my surprise, Remy doesn’t even hesitate. His hand lands on my ass so heavily I jump forward, my head hitting the base of the headboard as he moves forward with me, pinning me between him and the wood. My cry is short, confused by the pleasure and pain mingling together as the stinging sends hot blood rushing south. He grips me around the waist and reaches up to grip one of my nipples firmly between his fingers.
I feel myself clenching around him, desperate to keep him inside of me. The pressure is building in me again, and this time I think I won’t even explode. I’ll either have to suffer a slow release or if he continues to stoke me like this, I’ll implode—collapsing in on myself. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Claire.” His voice is husky, and I think he may be struggling to keep it together. That only makes me want him to fall apart with me. “You want me to hurt you? I will.” He hits deep inside, his movements amazingly controlled, both on the impact and retreat. “But you have to ask me for it.”
Remy’s words are hot in my ear, sending a sort of half-shudder down my spine.
You have to ask me for it.
“Hurt me!” I say, louder this time, emboldened by his encouragement. “More.” I moan.
And he does just that, grabbing my other breast in his free hand and pinching both nipples in tandem. “Oh God.” I’m almost as scared as I am aroused, dripping wet and begging for more.
“I’m no God.” His hands release their grip all at once. I worry I’ve angered him for a second, but then his hands move in opposite directions—one north, where it comes to rest at the base of my neck, and one south, where it caresses my ass. “But I’ve got you on your knees and I’m about to send you to heaven.”
I don’t even have time to contemplate what that is supposed to mean. If this was any other one-night stand and not the man who’d single-handedly saved me from whatever grisly fate I’d have faced at the hands of his brother, I’d think that was a literal threat… particularly as his hand starts to squeeze.
“Remy,” I gasp, panic starting to take the place of the arousal that’s been buzzing inside of me for the last several hours. I want to feel pain, not die… not yet.
And yet, I feel the slickness pooling between my legs, my desire growing in the face of potential danger as I struggle to get a breath.
“Relax.” He commands.
I can’t see his face, but I can hear the gentleness in his tone, and my body responds automatically as if it can’t help but obey him, even in the name of self-preservation. Despite the nervousness flitting around in my stomach, there’s also desire unraveling inside of me. I feel the tension in my spine ease as my fear melts away, thawed by my need to take whatever he is willing to give me. I unconsciously back into him, surrendering control of my own body to Remington Boudreaux.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” His whisper is ragged, and I almost think it wasn’t meant for me, like it’s an unconscious slip of his tongue betraying a private thought. Baby was startling but casual enough. Sweetheart feels so… intimate. He’s never called me anything like that before. But whether it was for me or him, I ease more as his fingers tighten on my skin. It’s not hard enough to block the passage of air, but it’s knowing he could that is alluring. I’m flirting with danger, and I learned earlier just how intoxicating I find that.
He’s still buried inside me, stretching me around him as his fingers drum over the delicate skin of my throat, and the anticipation is killing me. I can’t sit still—I need the friction.
When I rotate my hips, Remy groans and pushes me forward. I barely get my hands under me in time to stop myself from falling face-first into the mattress—not that it matters. His grip on me keeps me in place so that I don’t have to worry as he slams into me so suddenly it has me squeeze my eyes shut as the stars bloom to life in my darkness. They dance faintly on the horizon of my consciousness as he hammers into me, his grip on my neck the only thing keeping me upright even as the dark gets darker.
My entire body is hot, kissed by the fire scorching between us. Everything burns so good—the way he’s stretching me, the heat spilling out of my pores, the jagged breaths I take as he deprives me of air little by little, methodically. I try to speak, to tell him to never let go, but no sound makes it out of my throat, which simply vibrates under his fingers.
All of the trepidation I’d felt at the idea of being choked has transformed into potent, mind-bending need as I teeter on a ledge I can’t see, held aloft only by my faith in this man. Truthfully, if he killed me in the moment, I’d only be mad that I missed out on what’s promising to be the most devastating orgasm I’ve ever had.
“You followed me into the fire, Claire.” Remy groans as he hits deeper inside of me. His voice is composed despite the fact that his motions are becoming frantic, chasing me further to the edge of the precipice I can’t see. The stars are getting brighter as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, my heart slamming as I take a short breath through my nose, letting the acrid feeling marinate in my lungs.
Every part of me feels like it’s going to burst—my head from the impossible pleasure, my chest from the pressure building inside it. I’m only vaguely aware of his other arm reaching around me, supporting my weight across my hips and pulling me into him, limiting my range of motion so that I’m hostage to his every movement.
The pressure in my lower body doubles and a scream finally makes it past his fingers on my throat before he adjusts his grip, giving me a few brief seconds to gulp down precious air. It temporarily transfers all of the sensation to the strong arm pressing against my bladder, snatching me against him and I feel the unraveling begin when his hot mouth presses into the shell of my ear.
“Now burn with me.” He commands.
I do.
The minute his fingers close on my throat again, everything burns.
I’ve been burning for him since the first moment I saw him. I still burn for him, brighter and hotter than even the first day. A flame left previously untended; it now stands to ravage everything in its path. There’s no stopping it.
White-hot waves roll off my skin as I begin to shake, distantly aware of the violent power taking over me. It’s not much of a warning—it comes too late. I’m already being ripped apart by the impending explosion ricocheting through me from the inside out.
My legs are the first to give—they begin to tremble and then give out beneath me, so that I feel myself falling even though I know I’m upright, even though I know he won’t let me go.
That’s when Remy re-doubles his efforts, letting his hand slip away from my throat so he can reach down between my legs. My breath—newly rushing back to me—catches when his fingers graze over my throbbing core. The touch is too much on my sensitive nerves, but I grind against him anyway, greedy for what he’s offering.
