Dominate (Deliver 8)

Before she thought to bite him back, it ended. He stared down at her, his breaths fast and hot against her face, his lips swollen and glistening.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, furious.

“To test your reaction.”

She ground her teeth. “What did you learn?”

He touched a finger to her mouth and trailed it down her chin, her neck, her breastbone. His eyes followed the movement, his intention clear a half-second before he pinched her nipple through the shirt.

“Stop!” She wasn’t wearing a bra and had no protection against the assault. “Don’t touch me!”

“Is that what you told him?” He squeezed harder, shooting pain through her breast and stinging her eyes with tears.

“Yes!”

“You told him yes?”

“No!” She kicked her legs, aiming a knee toward his back. But she couldn’t reach him. She didn’t have the strength. “I told him no. A million times no.”

“But he couldn’t keep his hands off your hot little responsive body.” He cupped her breast in a ruthless vise, adding ungodly pressure as his thumb rolled over the pebbled peak. “Your nipples were hard before I even touched them. My God, you’re hungry.”

“You sound like a rapist.”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you wet?”

“Are you hard?”

He twisted, slid a leg over the top of hers and pressed the hardest, largest erection she’d ever felt against her hip.

Her pulse quickened. Her body shuddered, and her mouth went desert-dry.

That couldn’t be real. No goddamn way.

His cock jerked against her, and swear to God, it felt like a baseball bat was stretching the threads of his jeans from groin to knee.

Instinct bellowed at her to retreat, but she refused to wither beneath him.

“I know you get off on hurting women, but I’m a hard pass, remember?” She lifted her pelvis and pushed into the threat, challenging his execution. “Go fuck someone your own age.”

“I don’t want to fuck you, Rylee. I’m only interested in hurting you.”

He flipped her to her stomach and shoved the hem of the shirt up her back.

“What are you doing?” She jerked on the restraints and bucked beneath his ruthless hands.

He yanked down her pajama pants and exposed her bare backside.

Her breath left her.

His palm came down with a shocking, fiery smack. She gulped, stunned, and opened her mouth on a silent scream.

Another strike. And another. He wailed on her ass with all the fury of a punishing god. She could only lie there and take it like a shameful child. But she wasn’t ashamed. She was burning, panting, sinking into his blistering attention in the most sickening way.

It wasn’t just the bite of his hot palm or the delicious chill that followed each blow. It was the crescendo of his breaths, the guttural growls from his throat, and the blustering pulse in her ears, in her pussy—all of it echoing in an erotic symphony and growing faster, faster, until there was no pause between the primal beats.

Then he was on her. His hands, his teeth, tearing into her welted flesh, sinking into burning muscle, piercing skin, slapping, biting, and groaning with sexual savagery.

He spread her cheeks and took his mouth to her anus, teasing and tormenting the ring of nerves. His tongue prodded and lapped up and down her crack, delving deep. So deep. Oh, God, he knew what he was doing. If this was him when he lost his temper, she couldn’t fathom what he could do to a woman when he was in full control.

It felt too good. Too atrociously depraved and shocking. She’d wanted this level of rough, raw lust for as long as she could remember, to burn beneath the intensity of male heat, to explore the dark, uncharted corners of her imagination, but she’d never found a man who could take her there.

So instead of fighting, she lifted her ass and writhed against him to heighten the sensation.

“You fucking slut.” He spanked her again, harder, meaner. “I don’t hear you saying no. You tease men with this perfect, round ass. You fuck them and forget them and wonder why you have a stalker.”

The heat of his mouth replaced his hand, his tongue stabbing between her buttocks, and lower, lower, reaching for her pussy.

Nonsensical sounds bubbled in her throat as she jerked like a mindless thing, trembling, gasping. The throbbing between her legs came at intervals until those intervals blurred into one blinding pulse. It overtook her.

She was going to come.

He tore his mouth away and climbed off the bed.

Her stomach seized and plummeted.

Without warning, he plunged two fingers between her legs, gliding the tips along her soaked slit. She squeezed her thighs together, but he got what he wanted, proving it as he brought his wet hand to her face and smeared her arousal across her lips.

If she felt shame, it was diluted by an inglorious blast of rage. Rage at herself for falling into his trap.