Page 26 of Wanted
“Yes.” She couldn’t quite make herself nod.
“When was the last time he told you to come?”
A brief glimpse, that was all he caught of the raw dismay that shattered her mask, right before she swallowed, looked away, and found another hard mask. This one was cool, almost haughty. Despite the watery shine slowly seeping into her eyes.
“I don’t remember. A month before his arrest. Maybe two.” She folded her arms across her breasts. “He didn’t want me himself. He gave me to his friends. H-he made me come for them.”
Not want her? Marcus barely kept from saying Ethen was an idiot and a fool, as well as an asshat. God, he wasn’t supposed to want her and it was everything he could do right now not to take hold of her wrists, pry them off her chest, and tell her never to hide her reactions from him again. He wanted to see them. He wanted to feel them in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with helping her overcome the hell she’d been through so she could once more face the world without fear.
He was supposed to listen when she talked of Ethen. Encourage her to share her feelings without disparaging the man, because her loyalties to him at this point would make her clam up fast and it would only be that much longer and take that much more effort for him to get her to open up again.
He was supposed to listen.
But right now, the only thing he was listening to were the layers of hurt exposed in tiny twitches beneath her breaking mask and the throbbing ache of his own heated arousal.
“I don’t want you to come for them,” he surprised them both by saying. As if he had the right, as if she should even care. As if it weren’t dangerous for him to give her a reason to care. “But I do want you to come. Does that scare you, piss you off, or excite you?”
He didn’t need to ask. That fluttering pulse of hers leapt so hard when he’d said it that he could have seen it from space. His cock twitched in response, tensing, tightening, stirring within the confines of his own sweats. All she had to do was look down and she’d notice something no professional in his line of work would ever let himself become in the presence of a client.
“I-I—” she stopped and stared at him.
She didn’t know what she was feeling. Fair enough.
“Touch your pussy,” he ordered.
Her arms unfolded just a little too fast to be compliance. Her hands dropped to her sides while the tight peaks of her nipples tented the front of her shirt. His mouth watered, but he kept his eyes squarely locked with hers.
“Now,” he said. A dull throb of anticipation built low in his abdomen as his cock hardened.
She swallowed again, but she still didn’t back away. She was too well-trained for that, and that both pleased him and pissed him off.
Hesitantly, she slipped her hand into her too-big sweats. Her cheeks colored as she watched him, that beautiful flush making her even more lovely to watch as she pushed her arm down between her legs. He knew by the flinch of her stomach when she touched herself. His cock twitched too, sending that tiny shock of excitement racing through his veins.
She stared at him, frozen with her hand between her thighs.
“Show me,” he said thickly. It was his turn to swallow now. He ached to see the wetness glistening on her fingertips. He hungered for it.
Reluctantly, she drew out her hand and there it was, fingers just as wet as feminine arousal could make them. Her hand trembled as they both looked at it.
Good girl. The praise never quite made it from his mind to his hungry lips. He nodded instead. He made himself back away. If he didn’t, he didn’t know what he’d do. Take hold of her wrist to bring those delectable fingers to his mouth so he could explore her taste. Cup the back of her neck, dragging her to him for his first kiss in what had been way too long for him.
Obviously, it had been way too long for them both.
It would be wrong, no matter what he did. He was already in the wrong. She was doing this of her own volition, but he was in charge here and she was damaged. He was taking advantage of his position over her. He was taking advantage of her inability to consent to the measure of control he was exerting.
He shouldn’t want her this powerfully.
That he did was as shocking to him as it was dismaying. He’d never, ever done this to any other woman he’d taken under his protective wing. He was not showing himself to be worthy of her fragile trust.
He took another step back. “Twenty minutes on the treadmill,” he told her. “Nothing above a brisk walk. I need to go upstairs a minute.”
Turning on his heel, he made himself leave the basement in slow, measured, unconcerned steps, knowing it would only do more damage if her submissive mind jumped to the conclusion that she’d disappointed him somehow, that the wetness on her fingers or her obedience in revealing it had turned him off.
Off was nowhere near what he’d been turned, and if he didn’t get space between them right now, the urge to completely violate the authority that he’d been given over her was going to get the best of him.
He went to the kitchen and made sure she could hear every one of his steps loud and clear as he got a water from the fridge, popped the top off at the sink and made himself drink it. He ought to get an ice cube and apply it where the cold could only help the most, but that just made him think of the last time he’d indulged in ice play and how Anna might respond if he splayed her out on her back, tying her legs wide apart so he could torment her clit with piece after wet, icy piece. First her clit, then her folds, and then he’d fuck her with it, slipping as many watery cubes up inside her as he could make fit, letting them melt while he then turned his attention to the bud of her little asshole and, with another piece of ice, made her scream while he fucked her.
Would she scream? He’d bet she was too well-trained for that. He was just as certain of his own skills and, given enough pieces of ice, he knew he could break through that training and leave her writhing, squealing, maybe even sobbing long before he fed her his cock and rode her mouth, her cunt or her ass until he’d exhausted himself. He didn’t care how cold her flesh, he’d warm it.
