Page 67 of Ruthless Desire

His hand ghosts along my flank, and I jerk away – or try to. The ropes hold me fast, leaving me nowhere to hide from his touch.

"Shh," he soothes, fingers skating dangerously close to where I ache most. "Let go, Natalie. Surrender to me. To us."

I shake my head frantically, tears of frustration and confused arousal leaking from beneath my blindfold.

Dante tsks. "Such stubbornness. But your body knows the truth, doesn't it? Look how wet you are for me, moy voron. Dripping, begging for my cock even as you pretend to resist."

His fingers dip between my thighs, and I can't stifle my moan. He works me with expert precision, building a inferno in my core. I'm so close, teetering on the edge of an oblivion I both crave and fear.

Then... nothing.

He pulls away, leaving me trembling and desperate. I whine, hating myself for it.

"Not yet," Dante growls. "You haven't earned your pleasure. First, you need to learn. To understand the consequences of defiance."

The blindfold falls away. I blink, adjusting to the dim light. Dante stands before me, gloriously naked, all coiled power and lethal grace. His eyes bore into mine, obsidian pools of hunger and possession.

"Look at me," he commands. "See the man who owns you. Body, mind, and soul."

I want to look away. I can't.

"Please," I whimper around the gag, not even sure what I'm begging for anymore.

Dante's smile is knife-sharp. "Oh, solnyshko. We're just getting started."

What follows is an onslaught of sensation. Dante wields pleasure like a weapon, pushing me to limits I didn't know existed. He denies me release again and again, until I'm a quivering, incoherent mess.

"That's it," he growls, fingers pumping relentlessly. "Fall apart for me. Show me how badly you need this."

I sob, far beyond shame now. I arch into his touch, silently pleading for more.

"Good girl," Dante praises.

I try to glare at him, to convey all my hatred and defiance through my gaze alone. But even I can feel how it falters, how it wavers under the heat of his stare.

He reaches out, trailing a finger down my cheek. I flinch, but there's nowhere to go, no escape from his touch.

"Shh," he soothes, his voice a velvet purr that sends shivers down my spine. "Don't fight it, Natalie. You're only prolonging the inevitable."

His hand moves lower, skimming over the curve of my breast, down my ribs, across the flat plane of my stomach. My breath hitches, body arching into his touch even as my mind screams in protest.

"See?" Dante's smile is triumphant, cruel. "You were made for this. Made for me."

I shake my head frantically, trying to deny his words, to deny the effect he has on me. But it's useless. He sees right through me, past all my carefully constructed walls.

"Still so defiant," he chuckles, moving behind me. I strain to keep him in sight, hating how vulnerable I feel. "It's adorable, really. But we both know how this ends, don't we?"

His hands settle on my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I can feel the heat of him, the solid wall of his chest pressed against my back.

"You're going to break for me, Natalie," he breathes, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Shatter into a thousand exquisite pieces. And when I put you back together?" His teeth graze my neck, drawing a muffled whimper from me. "You'll be perfect. My masterpiece. My queen."

The conviction in his voice terrifies me. Because deep down, in a place I don't want to examine too closely, I know he's right. I can feel myself slipping, falling deeper into the abyss of his obsession.

Dante's hand slides lower, dipping between my thighs. I jerk in my bonds, a choked sound escaping around the gag as his fingers find me wet, aching.

"There it is," he purrs, circling my clit with maddening precision. "The truth your pretty mouth tries so hard to deny. Your cunt doesn't lie, solnyshko. It knows who it belongs to."

I shake my head again, tears spilling over. But I can't stop the way my hips rock against his hand, chasing the sensation.

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