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“Something similar.”
“Do you do something similar to fucking with everyone who witnesses your murders?”
“No. I kill them.”
My throat closes at his apathetic tone. He really has no regard for human life, does he? He must think of everyone as collateral pieces of a chessboard that he can get rid of as he sees fit.
He hooks his fingers on the décolletage of my top and pulls it down in one swift go, revealing my naked breasts.
I’m breathing heavily, my fists clenching into the mattress on either side of me. He reaches a large hand toward me, a hand that can throttle me or snap me in two.
I don’t think as I grab it, my smaller palms cradling his in a desperate attempt to stop him from acting on his objective.
It could be because of the feral way he’s staring at my breasts. I don’t like it. But what I dislike the most is how my nipples have instantly peaked into tight buds under his merciless gaze.
Adrian raises a brow but doesn’t force me to let him go, even though he could overpower me in a beat. My hands are wrapped around his, keeping them an inch away from my skin. As we watch each other in a dance of back and forth, I don’t know if I’m fighting him or myself.
Or maybe I’m fighting my terrifying reaction to him. He’s not touching me, but his warmth is creeping under my skin. He’s merely looking at my breasts, but he elicited a shudder from my bones. One that I don’t want to acknowledge, but it’s there, tucked between my heart and ribcage.
All I can think about is how I came while he stroked my nipples over my leotard or how I dreamt about him plunging inside me with increasing roughness.
I don’t want to know what will happen if he actually touches me. That thought is like acid on my nerves—melting, paralyzing, and damn frightening.
But at the same time, I want all of this to end, and the more I deny him, the longer I’ll have to suffer.
With a deep breath, I release his hand, letting my arms fall to my sides.
His long, masculine fingers wrap around a taut nipple and twist, gently at first, then harshly with the intent to hurt. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth to keep from feeling it.
But it’s pointless.
My nipples send a zap of pleasure straight to my core. It’s so strong that my entire body feels it. My every nerve ending comes alive under his ministrations and there’s no way to stop the assault, even if I wanted to. It doesn’t help that my nipples are sensitive, prone to easy stimulation.
I’ve always liked nipple play, but have hardly gotten any because of my small breasts. However, Adrian doesn’t seem to care. He’s stimulating them in a maddening way, as if he’s been touching them for a lifetime.
“Was that a little rebellion just now, Lia?” He pinches both nipples hard and I arch off the bed, yelping.
“Mmm…”
“That’s not an answer.”
I shake my head.
“Use your words.” His voice, although low, is firm and controlled with no room to be disobeyed.
“N-no.”
He twists again, more forcefully this time, as if he’s planning to break the skin, and I release an anguished cry mixed with a moan. “I said not to lie to me. Another strike and I’ll have to deal with your disobedience.”
“Yes, yes…ahhh…” I whimper when he massages the aching nipples with the pads of his thumbs.
His message is clear. If I obey him, I’ll be rewarded. If I don’t, he’ll make sure I suffer.
He continues twisting and pinching my nipples, then runs the pad of his thumb over the tips as if soothing them, giving them a slight reprieve before he goes back to torturing them again.
I’m so stimulated that I think I’ll orgasm with just nipple play. It’d be a first, and for some reason, I believe he’d be able to do it. My core throbs with bursts of arousal that match the rhythm of his fingers. Sometimes hard and fast, other times slow and agonizing.
He releases my left breast and it aches, tingling with the loss of his fingers.
