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His groan was the most emotion I’d ever seen from him, the biggest reaction he’d ever given me. For long seconds he just stared at me, holding my chin in that painful yet surprisingly erotic grip. He smoothed his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling the flesh down before letting it fall back in place. As the seconds moved by, the minutes, I was transfixed by the sight of him, by his touch. And then he let me go, and I felt as though I were falling into the abyss. He leaned back and undid his belt before undoing his button and pulling the zipper down on his slacks. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, although I knew I was, sensed my chest rising and falling violently.

When he pulled himself free, his cock thick, long, hard for me, I did stop breathing then. I didn’t move, didn’t even contemplate taking control and starting this. Cameron was the one who held the reins, who would begin this when he was ready.

“How much do you want this?” he asked and gripped himself, not stroking his length, just holding it. I stared into his eyes, wanting to lie, to say I didn’t want it, but the truth was the opposite.

I did want it. I wanted the pain and pleasure I knew he could give me, not just from his power and strength controlling me, but because he knew what I was about. He really knew.

“I want it.”

He leaned forward an inch, and I smelled the alcohol he’d been drinking. No doubt it had been expensive, maybe even burned when it slid down the throat. It made me feel drunk, intoxicated with wanting more. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice fiercer now.

“I want it like I want to take my next breath.” Maybe a little overboard, but it was right on point with how I felt at the moment.

The low sound he made had me growing wetter. I clenched my thighs together, wanting pressure, wanting his hand there, touching me, bringing out the filthiest part of my desires.

“Do you like the fact I own you? Do you like the knowledge that you agreed to be mine in every way I see fit, any way I see fit?”

I nodded, because right now my mouth wasn’t working, my lips not forming the words.

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He had his hand on the back of my head, gripping my hair, yanking me backward so my throat was exposed, arched. The pain was intense, and tears pricked my eyes. But it also felt so good, so freeing. “If you want it, take it.” He tightened his hold on my hair even more. “But make it good, make me pleased to have you here, that it was worth it bringing you out of hell.”

Out of hell? Wasn’t I in it, basking in the heat of the flames, the touch of the devil himself?

He pulled my head forward until the slick tip of his dick moved along my lips. His hold on me was unforgiving, a promise that he did hold the power, that he’d control the situation.

“Open up and suck me until I tell you to stop.” He yanked my head back again and looked in my eyes. “And don’t stop until I tell you to, Sofia. Understand?”

I nodded.

His words and actions shouldn’t have made me so aroused. Was I so broken that his rough touch could incite these emotions in me, could make me crave him like an addict for their next fix? Or maybe I wasn’t broken at all. Maybe Cameron and I were exactly the same, sharing the same bottomless soul that had dragged me down but raised him up. Maybe what made me feel alone made him feel alive.

He pulled me forward again, and I opened, taking his girth and length into my mouth. The flavor of Cameron was heady but also elusive, like the man himself. He didn’t make a sound for me, so I didn’t know if what I did pleased him. The only reaction he gave was a tightening in my hair and the tenseness of his thighs under my palms.

I closed my eyes and got lost in pleasing him…needing to make him feel good, to see that he and I weren’t so different. He could make me feel something more with just a look, just a touch to my cheek. I wanted to make him feel that way, too, wanted to show him that I too could have power.

So when I focused on pleasing him, I did it with everything in me. I swirled my tongue around the crown of his shaft, tasting the saltiness of his male essence. I clenched my legs impossibly tighter together, the feeling of my wetness coating my inner thighs, a telltale sign of how much I wanted him making shame and excitement wage war in me.

I got lost in everything Cameron. I flattened my tongue, running it up and down his length. Still he was quiet; still he showed me no reaction. It made me frenzied to have him unravel the way he made me unravel.

The longer he was in my mouth, the more control I felt I had. I took hold of the root of his dick and stroked what I couldn’t reach with my mouth. He still had his hand in my hair, keeping me stationary, a slave to my actions.

But then something shifted…he shifted. He gently lifted his hips, pushing another inch of himself into my mouth. I took as much as I could, moaning around him, unable to hold in the sound, not wanting to. The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat with every thrust of his hips. I gagged, tears stinging my eyes, rolling down my cheeks.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice husky, as if I were affecting him and my reward was this slight crack in his armor. With my gaze locked with his and his hips doing the work now, thrusting in and retreating between my lips, I could do nothing but hold on as he found his pleasure.

The tears continued to stream down my face every time he lodged the tip of his shaft at the back of my throat. I felt high, like any moment now I’d reach the very heavens.

Cameron cupped one side of my cheek, and I saw the way his jaw clenched, knew he was on the precipice of coming, of surrendering to me. I breathed in and out through my nose, not trying to stop this, not trying to push him back. I wanted to taste him, to have his cum in my mouth, sliding down my throat. I wanted him to force me to take it all.

And then he buried all his hard, hot inches into me and came. And I swallowed every last drop.

His hold on my hair was brutal, the pain very real, but it was coupled with the desire I had for him, the fact it was because of me that he’d let go. He pulled my head back, his semi-hard shaft slipping from my mouth. I felt a little of his cum slip out of the corner of my mouth, and as he looked at me, I swiped my tongue over it. I wanted every last drop of him in me.

When he let go of my hair, only then did I sag forward, my hands on the floor, my head lowered. I closed my eyes and sucked in much needed air, my lungs burning, my mind and body on fire. I felt his finger under my chin, lifting my head up so I had to look at him again.

He leaned down and ran his tongue over one side of my face, licking the wetness away. “The sweetest flavor on my tongue is your tears.” He pulled back slightly, his face so close, his warm breath brushing along my cheek. “And you’ll give me more of them, so much more before our time is done, Sofia.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I COULD HAVE GOTTEN LOST in a home this big, with so many rooms it was an endless labyrinth. The cold floors were unforgiving on my bare feet, and although I could have put shoes on, blocking out the rigid feeling, putting a barrier between the two, I liked the sensations. It made me feel like I was here, that I wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t conjuring up this entire situation.

After the solarium encounter Cameron had gotten a phone call. He’d excused himself like we hadn’t just done something dark and…good? God, I didn’t know anymore, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know if I should embrace what I felt and ignore the nagging in the back of my head that told me I shouldn’t want this. But the truth was I did want this. I was tired of the feeling of being nowhere, yet surrounded by everything. I didn’t fit in anywhere, and I realized that in Cameron’s presence. I might cry for him, my body instinctively wanting to submit, but being in his presence told me exactly how fragile I was.

It made me realize I really was here, experiencing the world.

But I’d never been one to freely give in, never been a woman who just took what the world gave her. I’d fought for where I was, even if that place was shitty and broken down.

I stopped in front of the window that overlooked the gardens. Despite

the April weather being somewhat warm, I saw the wind pick up, brushing along the leaves, telling me that it was colder than it looked. Putting my hand on the glass proved my point, the chilled pane bringing a sting to my palm.

The house felt still, empty, and the only staff I’d seen were those few during breakfast, when I’d first arrived, and the woman who’d come into the room just this morning. I had a feeling if Cameron had been there she wouldn’t have dared enter. He just brought out the instinctual fear in people. That much I’d felt myself.

I moved my hand from the glass and turned, making my way down another long hallway, and stopped at one of the only open doors I’d seen so far. It looked like a sitting room, or what I assumed one of those rooms would look like if I’d ever been in one. Dark furniture was placed in the center, and large windows were on either side of the room. The marble fireplace sat unused, clean, pristine, as if it was just for show. Behind me were rows upon rows of books, and although I wasn’t much of a reader, I did find myself moving toward them. Old leather-bound books which spoke of age, time, stared back at me. I ran my hands over them, the ridges on the spines a texture that pleased me for some reason.

No pictures. Nothing personal.

The thought came to me like a flickering light on its last leg. Why weren’t there any pictures of Cameron? Why did this seem so impersonal, this entire home—house—as if he didn’t really live here? So many questions filtered through my head, yet I knew I’d probably never have the nerve to ask, let alone get them answered.

I pulled one of the books out, the writing on the front in another language. There was a vine and flower detail around the edge of the front cover, an embossed signature, the book’s fingerprint. As I started flipping through the pages, unable to actually read the book, unable to understand the language, I felt myself getting engrossed in it. It was beautiful, the letters placed perfectly together, the detail in each chapter…it was all so detailed. It was like a dream, an imagination that couldn’t be erased.

I closed the book and gently slid it back in place among the others. When I turned, a startled gasp left me. Cameron stood in the doorway, his hands in his front pockets, his gaze locked on me. Neither of us moved, didn’t even speak for long seconds.