Page 62 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

“Tell me you understand. Tell me you exist only to feel pleasure.”

I faltered as his words seemed to come from all directions, filling the room with his command and certainty. His power thrummed through the air, and everything in my body was primed to bend to his authority.

I wanted to let go. I needed to let go. For just this one moment in time, I didn’t want to live with the constant flood of conflicting thoughts and guilt and shame and fear that had kept me in bondage far less desirable than Rune’s shadows.

“I understand,” I said softly, willing my words to be true. “I exist only to feel pleasure.”

As soon as the words left my lips, my restraint slipped away, and Rune was pushing me closer to that edge at a reckless pace. His other hand snaked up and pulled my dress down, freeing my breasts as I sharply inhaled. The cool air had my nipples hardening. Rune groaned lightly in my ear, the sound of it vibrating through my body.

“Fucking perfect,” he praised.

He ran his large hand over each breast and cupped, brushing fingers against each nipple and chuckling when I shivered.

Each sensation only added to the waves of pleasure suddenly building. When my legs began to tense, my eyes rolling, Rune pinched one of my nipples and lightly tugged.

I cried out. Lightning streaked right through me, this shock of pain that started at the hardened peak of my breast and crashed through my every nerve, adding a rawness to my building pressure.

When he tortured my other nipple, I lost myself completely, legs trembling as I arched and leaned against him. My heart thumped wildly, heat flooding my cheeks as I squirmed. I struggled against the bindings on my wrists and ankles, desperate to angle away from him or swat his hand.

His chuckle in my ear drove me crazy, and the way I had no power, no control, no desire but what he gave me had me melting into a headspace that I never knew was possible. One that I feared I could become just as addicted to as Rune would my blood.

And the thought of us becoming addicted to each other should’ve terrorized me. But not now, not when I was a part of him, a toy in his cruel palms that existed only for pleasure.

“Come,” he growled, his tone cold and unforgiving.

He twisted my nipple as his fingers angled more directly over my clit and pulsed. I couldn’t have disobeyed if I’d tried, and he knew it. He gave me no way to escape, no way to resist, no way to hold back.

I shook as I cried out louder than before, filling the room with the sound of my unraveling.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” Rune praised in my ear, riding out wave after wave before removing his touch and releasing all of my limbs.

I collapsed against him, and in a dizzying flash of movement I was between his legs on the carpet, my head against his chest.

“Now, when I said you were safe for now from paying for your innumerable sins against your God,” he said, his voice soft as it skated across my cheek, “that was only half true.”

Though I was listening to him speak, it was hard to connect his words to meaning. I was a puddle in his arms, breathless and boneless.

“You just told me you exist only to feel pleasure, and I’m not done playing with you yet.”

30

SCARLETT

“No,” I said feebly. “I can’t take anymore.”

Rune ran his fingers through my hair, holding me against his broad body as he leaned back against the wall. The study was warmly lit, with several bookcases, a grand, rectangular desk with papers and books sprawled about.

“See, now that’s simply not true,” he said, dark humor in his voice. “And part of making you the best version of yourself will be teaching you that your thoughts and beliefs are not always reality. Especially not when it comes to who you are and what you’re capable of.”

This would be a very sweet sentiment if he wasn’t justifying his imminent torture of my depleted body.

“Spread your legs.”

I tightened them instead, making myself smaller.

“Scarlett,” he said in my ear. “Spread your legs, or I will do it for you.”

His voice was softer now, but it still carried the undercurrent of a threat that curled in my stomach and pushed me to act.

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