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“Please!” I whine, forgetting the rules.
His eyes flick to mine. “Do you love me?”
My mouth forms the shape of the words.I. Love. You.
But all that comes out is a broken whimper.
Lukas sighs and pulls away. The next thing I feel is cold.
I jerk against my restraints as something smooth and unyielding presses against my entrance. A toy of some kind, I realize distantly, though I have no idea where he got it.
He slides the toy inside me slowly, inch by inch. It’s far smaller than him, but electrically relentless in a way no human body can never be. No warmth, no pulse, and sure as hell no mercy. Cold silicone fills me up.
When he turns it on, I nearly scream.
The vibrations add a fresh new circle to this hell. I’m climbing again, faster this time, the sensation so intense it borders on pain?—
Until he turns it off.
“Do you love me?”
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then more. Straining, yearning, muffled screams?—
—”Do you love me?”—
—I try, but?—
Nothing.
I’m crying now. These are real tears, streaming down my temples and soaking into my hair. My wrists are worn red from straining against the silk ties.
And still, I can’t say it.
Why can’t I say it?
I know I love him. I’ve known for days, maybe weeks. I love the way he laughs when he forgets to be guarded. I love the way he combs through my hair with his scarred hands. I love the monster and the man, the killer and the cook, the beast in all its many forms.
But the words. Won’t. Come.
They’re stuck behind eighteen years ofbe carefulanddon’t get attachedandeveryone you love leaves eventually.They’re stuck behind a car crash that took my parents and a brother who keeps relapsing and a lifetime of learning that love is merely a synonym for loss.
Lukas sees it all in my face.
And he begins again.
This is… this isevil.My body has become a single exposed nerve, flayed open and left twitching in the twilight. I’m flushed from head to toe, my clit is unbelievably swollen, and I keep clutching in hopes that I’ll find enough friction and resistance to cum.
But I never get there. I feel woozy and depleted, strung out, insane.
After a few more ruthless rounds of tease-and-denial, Lukas pulls the toy out, leaving me spasming and clutching mournfully around nothing at all. He rises from the bed and crosses to the dresser. I watch through tear-blurred eyes as he retrieves something from the drawer—something small and curved, with a strap attached.
He returns to my side and kneels beside my thigh. His body is blocking me, so I can’t see what he’s doing. All I can feel is his hands fastening something around my thigh.
