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He moves his mouth to the top of my dress and nudges it out of the way with his chin to kiss down to my bra-coveredbreast. He bites and sucks my nipple and I cry out again, trying like hell not to come.
“It was a little one. I didn’t mean it.”
“You want to come now, don’t you? Tell me, if you could, what you’d do.”
His free hand grips my hip and he moves to the next breast to lave it, too. And between my thighs, he continues to stroke and tease and torture my pussy.
“I’d bite you,” I say, “I’d bite you hard, mark you. And then I’d suck you. I want your cock in my mouth. Then I’d make you go down on me. Lick me to orgasm. And maybe I’ll let you spank me?—”
“Let?”
“—and I’d ride you. I’d take you so deep in my pussy, I’d come on you so hard…” The words tumble out of my mouth, so stream of consciousness that I don’t even realize what I’m saying.
He pulls my face to his and kisses me hard and deep, sending my head spinning even faster. Then he eases me off him.
“I’m not sure if that scratched the fucking itch, or if it made me get Pollyanna-type hives.”
“Was that an insult or a compliment?”
“I have no fucking idea.” He stands up and walks over to the window to stare at the treetops in the park below. “Time to get ready, Ivy, I’m taking you out to a club.”
“Are you making your move? Or is this a move, I mean?”
He looks back at me, curiosity in his eyes. “Why?”
I glance at the oak floor. “I didn’t see an invite.”
“Been snooping?”
“I’ve been trapped in here and?—”
“I said you can do what you want, just take one of my cars.”
“To be watched. And as long as it isn’t to school or work.”
“It’s spring break and you’re not working at those shitholes anymore. And anyway, I’ve just changed my mind. I was going to take you to a club and just play, but…” He crosses the room, then stops and looks at me once he reaches the stairs. I practically float toward him.
Once we’re on the top floor, he opens a door. The room is huge with sweeping views, but something about it is so intimate, too. A big, soft gray rug, rounded sofas, and a matching chair give it a sleek, classic modern look.
He flips a couple of switches, and the main lights dim to nothing as burnished orange lamps light the room with a subtle, intimate glow.
I’ve peeked in here before, but during the day it’s just functional…a sitting room with a wet bar and a view people would kill for. Now, with the lights? It’s a room made for seduction and sex.
A thrill runs through my veins.
Yes, yes, oh fuckingyes!
Sometimes I lose track that this is a game within a game. Sometimes it’s shockingly, perfectly real to me.
There are times where I lose myself, like in that kiss, where it’s like real affection is there, a spark of chemistry between us. That he’s lost sight of his hate and need to punish me. That’s when the using me to get into the most private parts of Broken Angel are smudging, blurring.
And me?
I don’t even know how I feel.
What if he told me the truth and those drugs Elise found weren’t from him after all? What if I, a rejected fourteen-year-old, crushed all these lives and brought everything crashing down around us all? That no one but me is to blame? That he’s right to hate me?
And what if he’s finding it harder to hold onto that hate?
