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“I gave you a treat after breakfast.” He leaned forward, his face coming into the sunlight, his expression severe…aroused. “But this is aboutme, aboutyoupleasuring me in any way I see fit.” I felt like he would have smirked at me then, but he kept his cold composure. “Isn’t that right, Sofia?”
The way he said my name did all sorts of filthy, wrong things to me. I found myself nodding. Yes, that was true, so true I felt it in my very bones.
“Now, undress for me.”
I could do nothing but stand there for a second. Having him see me nude wasn’t a shock. No, it was the way he’d demanded it, his voice like ice: cold, hard, able to hurt without trying. I was here, alive, for one purpose, and that was to please this man, to bend to his will, and give him whatever he wanted.
It was true when I said I’d be his victim…his willing, already wet victim.
But what I hadn’t factored in was the fact I might actually enjoy this…want it.
Anyone and everyone could see us, and a part of me grew even more aroused by that, even more on edge. What was wrong with me? Why was I enjoying this, finding myself wanting it?
I pushed all thoughts out of my head. They wouldn’t do me any good, wouldn’t save me.Is that even what I want?
Once I was undressed, my motions unceremonious, I stepped away from my clothes scattered on the floor around me. I felt my heart jackhammering against my ribs, like the muscle wanted out, needed to escape the depravity that was about to happen. But despite my fear, the knowledge that Cameron had more darkness in him than the very night, I anticipated this.
I wanted this.
Even now I was wet, ready for him, needing him inside of me, taking from me the way the entire world had for my entire life.
He hadn’t told me to remove my clothing slowly, to make a show for him. I had a feeling a man like Cameron wasn’t about teasing. He wanted the reward when it was due.
I noticed the small table beside him, the glass filled with what I assumed was alcohol. I guess it wasn’t too early for mind fucks or getting drunk.
Cameron lifted his glass, the liquid within the cut crystal seeming darker than normal. He brought the cup to his mouth and took a long drink from it while watching me over the rim. The room seemed so cold with him in it, yet here I was, sweating, beads of perspiration rolling down my nude body, chilling in the air. The sun was a constant presence around me, the purity and beauty of our surroundings about to be tarnished and broken by what he wanted me to do for him.
He had his shirtsleeves rolled up, his thickly corded forearms, inked in abstract designs, frightening displays of power, flashing before me like a promise. His hands were so large, and I could imagine them holding me down, pinning me beneath him as he took me, claimed what he was after. After a second he set his cup down and just watched me, as if he enjoyed seeing me on edge, seeing me fragile…at his mercy.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered, demanding my submission, my compliance.
I found myself falling to my knees, the tiled floor unforgiving, reminding me where I was, who I was here with. I stared at Cameron, his body partially obstructed in the shadows.
“Come to me, Sofia.”
I wasn’t fooled by the low pitch of Cameron’s voice. He was like a snake: hypnotic, seductive, but striking when I least expected it. And so I came to him, crawled to him, my body shivering, my mind racing. I wasn’t cold, wasn’t even frightened in this exact moment.
I shivered, breathed in hard, and tried to focus because I was turned on.
I wanted this, wanted him to show me the black hole that was his soul, that had been my life. I knew he could give me that. I knew he’d want to give it to me as much as he wanted to take from me.
When I was in front of him, my knees aching, my palms sweating, he did nothing but look at me for long seconds. But I sat there, waiting, holding my breath, knowing he’d take me when he was ready. He’d bend me to his will when he deemed it so. His body was big, corded with muscle. The tattoos that lined his neck and chest could be seen through the crisp whiteness of his shirt, past the open collar of the persona he showed the world.
“Look at me.”
I lifted my head, my gaze to his face. He leaned forward, dusk slashing across the harsh beauty of his face, showing me what lurked beneath the surface of this monstrously gorgeous man.
“Ask me for it. Beg me for it.”
My throat tightened, my mouth grew wetter, and every part of me was tense. It was like an electrical current washed through me, lighting me up, bringing me to life.
“Ask me for it,” he demanded and instantly gripped my chin, his hold unforgiving, brutal even. I’d have bruises on my face, my skin matted with the blue imprint of his passion. And to Cameron this was his passion, roaring out at me, demanding that I give in.
And a part of me wanted that, needed that mark of his ownership marring me, showing me that this was real, that I was truly alive.
“Please,” I finally whispered. I felt him tighten his hold on me, knew that one word, that submissive word, struck him deep.
“Again.”
