Page 65 of Ruthless Desire

I step back to admire my handiwork, a surge of possessive pride swelling in my chest. She's exquisite like this, a masterpiece of shadow and sin against the backdrop of my world.

"Now then," I purr, reaching out to trace the curve of her breast. She shivers, a muffled whimper escaping her. "Shall we begin your lesson?"

Natalie's eyes are wide, pupils dilated with fear as I approach. Her chest heaves with each panicked breath, the rope accentuating every curve, every vulnerable line of her body. It's a sight that sets my blood on fire, igniting a hunger that threatens to consume us both.

"You ran from me, solnyshko," I murmur, circling her like a shark scenting blood. "Tried to leave me. Do you have any idea what that does to a man like me? The fury it ignites?"

I pause behind her, close enough that she can feel the heat of my body, my breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She trembles, a full-body shudder that travels through the ropes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I won't... I won't do it again. Please, Dante."

A dark chuckle escapes me. "Oh, I know you won't. Because after tonight, the very thought of leaving me will be anathema to you. You'll crave my presence like a drug, ache for my touch in ways you never thought possible."

I move to face her, drinking in the sight of her tear-streaked face. With deliberate slowness, I begin to undress. Jacket first, then tie, each button of my shirt undone with meticulous care. Natalie's gaze follows my movements, fear warring with an unwilling hunger in her eyes.

"You see, my love," I continue, shrugging off my shirt to reveal the muscled expanse of my chest and arms, "I've been too lenient with you. Too indulgent of your little rebellions. That ends now."

I step out of my slacks, now as naked as she is. Her eyes widen further, a choked gasp escaping her as she takes in the evidence of my arousal.

"Please," she begs, renewing her struggles against the ropes. "Don't do this. I'll be good, I swear. Just don't-"

I silence her with a bruising kiss, one hand fisting in her hair to hold her still. She whimpers into my mouth, her body betraying her as she arches into me despite her protests.

When I pull back, we're both breathing heavily. "Don't lie to me, Natalie," I growl. "We both know a part of you wants this. Craves it, even. The darkness in you recognizes its mate in me."

My hand trails down her body, fingertips ghosting over heated flesh. She shivers, goosebumps rising in the wake of my touch. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I find her wet, her body's response belying her verbal protests.

A broken moan escapes her, half pleasure, half despair. I can see the conflict raging in her eyes, the battle between her stubborn will and her body's demands.

I work her higher, my fingers skilled and relentless. Her hips begin to move of their own accord, chasing the sensation. Just as she nears the peak, I pull away.

Natalie cries out at the loss, frustration clear on her face. "Wh-why did you stop?" she pants, then looks horrified at her own words.

I smirk, dark satisfaction coursing through me. "Because you haven't earned it yet, solnyshko. First, you need to learn. Need to understand exactly what happens when you defy me."

Each brush of my fingers against her quivering flesh, is deliberate. A reminder of my mastery over her, my ownership of all she is and will ever be. She’s a vision. A masterpiece of shadow and sin trussed up like an offering to the darkest of gods.

And I am her god now, the lord and master of her twisted little world.

I survey Natalie’s trembling form, a dark thrill unfurling in my chest. She’s afraid, as she should be. But beneath the fear, I see the flickering embers of her defiance. Still burning, still fighting, even in the face of her inevitable surrender.

It’s intoxicating. A drug I’ll never tire of sampling.

“Shhh,” I croon, trailing a finger down her cheek in a perverse mockery of comfort. “But not quite complete. Not yet.”

I leave her quivering and move to the ornate cabinet in the corner of the room, where I keep an array of devices for moments just like this. With a careful, deliberate hand, I select a golden ball gag—its gleaming surface adds a whimsical touch amidst the darkness.

Turning back to her, I savor the way her eyes widen in fresh panic. "Open your mouth, Natalie," I command, my voice a velvet-coated steel.

She hesitates, her lips pressed tightly together in a last act of rebellion. But it's a fleeting resistance, and when I step closer, her resolve crumbles. Slowly, reluctantly, she parts her lips.

I place the golden ball gag in her mouth, fastening it securely behind her head. Her muffled protests are music to my ears, a symphony of surrender that sends a shiver of satisfaction down my spine.

"There," I say, stepping back to admire my work. "Now you look perfect. Like my very own golden snitch—beautiful, elusive, and finally caught."

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but there's an unmistakable spark of defiance still lingering in their depths. It's that spark that keeps me enthralled, that makes the conquest all the sweeter.

I trail my fingers down her neck, tracing the line of her collarbone before dipping lower. Her skin is warm, flushed with a mix of fear and reluctant desire. My touch is light, almost tender, as I explore her bound form, each shiver and twitch a testament to her growing arousal.

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