Her Rebellion (The Rite Trilogy 2)

“No.” I lower my head further, doing the one thing I swore I never would. I kiss his shoe and then the other, silently at war with myself.

When his fingers caress the nape of my neck, it soothes some of the sting, and I realize something I could never confess out loud. He’s the only man I would ever do this for. He’s the only man I’d even consider worthy of my submission. And I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. I wonder if he’s imagining me doing the same before someone else, and if it bothers him.

“Does it please you?” I ask him softly.

Silence is my response.

“Do you think it will please my husband too?”

“I think you have a long way to go in learning how to please a man,” he answers coldly. “But you can start by sucking my cock.”

The ice in his words wounds me as I’m sure he intended, but I don’t let him see it as I raise my head and reach for his zipper.

“I must not be too displeasing,” I murmur haughtily as I unwrap his throbbing erection like a Christmas gift. “Or are your standards just that low?”

“I’m a man,” he utters in a strained voice. “Any hole will do.”

Again, it feels like a slap in the face, but I know that’s his intent. So I decide to play along and act like one of his women from the Cat House.

“Lucky for you, I have three of them.”

His eyes blaze, and I feel a little too smug as I drag him into my mouth and flick my tongue against the salty head of his cock. He’s big, and it’s hard for me to fit him, but I try to take as much as I can, hoping for some sign of a reaction. But he gives me absolutely nothing.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he asks with a bored tone.

It fucking irritates me, so I drag him deeper into my mouth, sucking harder, and even though I feel his dick pulsing against me, he gives me no other reaction.

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” he says. “Because I’m starting to feel like I’m not getting my money’s worth. Do you want a real whore to teach you how it’s done?”

I pause and glare up at him, and he meets my gaze with an empty expression.

“Carlisle always said if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” He sighs and grabs a handful of my hair, and then thrusts his cock so deep I nearly choke.

My hands fall against his thighs, holding him as he does it again.

“That’s more like it,” he breathes, tipping his head back so I can’t see his face. “Now you understand. This is what you’re here for.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble around him.

He chokes out a bitter laugh and thrusts his hips forward, making me gag. Any decency I was trying to hold on to goes out the window as spit drips down my chin. My eyes water, and I can feel the mascara running rivers down my face. But I don’t protest. Instead, I wrap my arms around him and stroke his muscular ass, encouraging more.

Despite his best efforts, a groan catches in his throat, and he thrusts into my mouth again, punishing me for it. And then we fall into a rhythm. Him using my face like a fuck toy, me humming my approval against him.

If I’m honest, I’m not even faking it. Because something is insanely hot about Judge like this. Dominating me. Taking what he wants from me. A terrifying part of me thinks I’d probably give him anything he wants. It’s something I can’t breathe life into. At least, not when we’re done playing this game. He reminds me of that a second later when he thrusts, gags me, and then pulls his wet dick free from my mouth.

“This display is a little pathetic,” he growls. “Don’t you think?”

“What?” I blink up at him, confused.

“You aren’t supposed to enjoy it.”

“What if I do?” I study him.

“Then maybe you really are a whore.” He pulls me by the hair until I fall forward, my hands catching against the stone. “But you’re still not half as good as my best.”

Those words cut me deep. Too deep. And it has the immediate effect of dousing me in cold and robbing any of the pleasure I felt from this twisted scenario. But it only gets worse when he shoves my face down onto the floor, rubbing it in the dirt.

“There’s nothing special about you.” He positions himself behind me, sliding his cock against me before he thrusts into me so hard that I jolt. “You’re just a body with three holes, exactly like you said. At least the other women actually try.”

His verbal tirade doesn’t end there, and I know now I was a fool to think I could ever win against a man like him. Judge proves it with every scathing insult he tosses my way.

“I took you because I was bored.” Thrust. “Because you were easy.” Thrust. “It means nothing to me.” Thrust. “It never will.”

Despite all my bravado, tears leak from my eyes and splash into the floor beneath me. I don’t want him to see, and I can’t feel anything anymore as he pounds into me, using me exactly the way I asked him to. Why couldn’t I see how dangerous this was? Why couldn’t I believe him when he warned me?

“Tell me how much you like it now,” he snarls.

A choked sob bursts from my lips before I can stop it, and Judge freezes behind me, his hands digging into my hips. But when he reaches down and tries to move my hair away, tries to see the vulnerability on my face, I can’t handle it.

“No.” I sever our connection, crawling away from him and stumbling to my feet before I break into a run.

I know it’s stupid. I’m fucking naked. Covered in spit and dirt and shame. But I run from the building, into the darkness, only to be snatched from behind and dragged back inside.

“No!” I scream. “Let me go!”

“Mercedes.” His voice has a raw edge that wasn’t there a minute ago. But I refuse to believe he has any feelings now. I can’t.

“Mercedes.” He drags me against him, hauling me back to the room of torture, and collapses into the chair, holding me hostage against his chest.

“Look at me,” he commands.

I don’t.

“Give me those dark eyes. Let me see you.” His voice is softer now, more pleading and less… whatever it was five minutes ago.

“No.” I bury my face into his chest, using my hair as a shield, but it doesn’t protect me.