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Adrian lifts the leotard up to my stomach, tracing his fingers along my belly. I flinch, a whole body shiver going through me.
“Are you always this sensitive?”
I purse my lips and he flattens his palm on my stomach, pinching my nipple hard. “Ahh…that hurts.”
“Then it’d be best to answer me when I ask a question.”
“No,” I whisper.
A feral gleam takes refuge in his stormy gray eyes. “No one’s touched you properly to make you sensitive?”
“I’m not a virgin…ahhh…” I moan when he runs the tip of his thumb over the aching peak.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” His tone hardens and so does his touch, as if his mood has soured. “If I wanted to know about the loser who tore through your cunt and soaked his dick with your virginal blood, I would’ve found out and taught him how to truly touch you. Though I’d probably kill him soon after since…well, you know how I feel about witnesses. So tell me, Lia, has anyone touched you properly before? Has anyone pushed your buttons the way you wish?”
I’m shivering and flat out trembling, both at the threat behind his words and the calm in them. My thighs rub against each other due to the unfathomable effect he’s having on me.
When I speak, my voice is barely audible through my moan, “No.”
“But you wished for it, didn’t you? When they were handling you gently like a porcelain doll, you wished for the roughness, for the sting of pain.”
I shake my head violently against the pillow, mortification eating at my insides.
He pinches my nipple hard enough to elicit a whimper of pain. “What did I say about lying to me?”
“I’m not sick like you,” I manage between throaty sounds.
“Oh, but you are.” He trails his hand downward and cups my most intimate part. “Mmm. You’re soaked, Lenochka.”
Heat rises to my ears and I turn my head, trying to hide my face and my utter shame in the pillow.
“Look at me.”
I don’t, refusing to let him see parts of me he has no business seeing.
Adrian twists my nipple at the same time as he runs two fingers through my folds. “I said, look at me.”
The pure authority in his tone, coupled with the pleasure and pain, make me peek at him, lips parted in a wordless cry—or a scream. I have no clue which sound will come out if I let it loose.
“You don’t hide from me when I’m touching you, Lia.”
“I’m not…ahhh…” My voice ends on a whimper-moan when he shoves those two fingers inside me.
“Don’t finish that lie.”
“Mmm…” My back arches off the bed at the sensation of being filled by him. It’s been a long time since I was touched this intimately. Though I’m not simply being touched now; I’m being completely and utterly owned. Just like when he kissed me, Adrian holds me to him by an invisible thread. He’s pulling on it, tugging and dragging me to his side as if I’m a marionette doll.
“You’re so fucking tight. Do you feel your walls clenching around my fingers?”
I want to look away from the controlled lust shining in his eyes, but I can’t. And it’s not only because of his command. Something in me unlocked when his fingers went inside me. It’s feral and harsh and out of control. It’s as unforgiving as the marionette strings pulling me along with no clear direction or landing site.
I’m falling into that web; I can feel the strings digging into my skin, sinking deep with each of his merciless pounds.
He thrusts into me and I moan. He pinches my nipple and I gasp.
The rhythm is overwhelming, savage, but not messy. It’s measured and with clear intent. Just like everything about Adrian.
He twists my nipples over and over again as he powers into my pussy. The heel of his palm slaps against my clit with every move and I see white stars.
