Page 36 of Princess Broken

“What do you want me to do?” I ask again, my voice deep but quiet, as my fingers and cock stroke her sex through her clothes and she shudders in my arms. I want her to say it. I want her to ask me to fuck her, instead of my asking for permission.

“Tell me,” I growl. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Her body stiffens. “Put me down.”

Down? Does she want her feet planted on the ground while I drive my cock inside her? She’s a bit short for that, but I’ll find a way.

“Unhand me—now!”

The meaning behind her words sinks in, and the shock slaps sanity back into my head.

My hips back away from her tiny body like she’s made of silver. Setting her on the floor, I stumble back.

Panting, she leans against the wall.

I slam into a chair and then skirt around it, my body on autopilot, my mind consumed by shame.

What the fuck have I done?

Chapter Fourteen

Ana

My legs are shaking like jelly. Jelly on fire.

While Phil was rubbing against me, something exploded inside my sex. Whatever it was, it detonated like an explosion that moved through my whole body, and it seems to have semi-paralyzed my legs. I’ve never felt anything like that before—eruptions that contracted my insides beyond my control. And it was so pleasurable it stole my mind too.

The major vibrations have passed now, but I continue to pulse down there.

What did he do to me?

His domination over me was humiliating.

I do not tolerate being manhandled, not ever, and yet I can’t deny the pleasure I felt as he rubbed his thickness against my sex and my bottom, especially once he combined that with his fingers rubbing me at the front.

Heat like I’ve never felt built up inside me, an intense heat along with a strange kind of tension that made me want to scream in frustration before it released. And it released in wave after wave of pleasure and internal contractions that felt better than anything I could have ever imagined.

What he did to me was clearly sexual, even though there was no penetration— not even skin-to-skin contact. And yet it felt better than my sex with Timur. I thought what was missing with him was romantic love, but perhaps it was something more. Because no chance do I feel any romantic feelings toward Phil.

And yet moisture is still oozing from inside me, wetness coating my inner thighs. I can’t make sense of what’s happened. Phil didn’t do any of the things Timur did to arouse me. Not one. He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t touch my bare skin down there. He didn’t caress my breasts or my inner thighs. And he certainly didn’t penetrate my body to perform the sex act.

I feel more animosity and anger toward Phil than I’ve felt toward anyone, and yet I know that if he lay me down on the bed at this moment and lifted my skirts, I’d welcome his hardness inside me.

What is wrong with me?

The throbbing continues inside my body like an invitation to him, and even thinking about the possibility intensifies the pulsing. Can he tell? I hope not. My cheeks flare as my insides continue to pulse.

Drawing a deep breath to disguise all I’m feeling, I gather myself and turn toward him.

“Touch me again,” I say with all the command I can muster, “and the wrath of the entire vampire world will descend upon you.”

Facing the wall at the other side of the room, Phil’s shoulders jerk, but he doesn’t turn, or reply.

“Did you hear me?” I ask with as much force as I can muster. “I am not an object for your use.” I pause to regain my composure. “I will not be abused by you…you animal.”

He turns at that last word, but keeps his eyes cast down. I can’t see his expression but anger radiates off him in waves. When he finally raises his head, his expression shocks me.

He’s not angry. Not with me. He’s angry with himself. Ashamed.

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