Page 64 of Burn With Me

Oh, baby. You have no idea.

“Tell me if it's too much.” I click the button that causes the part inside her to move more quickly and withdraw the toy slightly, pulling the ears away from her.

“No, bring it back,” she whines. Her eyes are screwed tight as she writhes on the bed, angling her body in different positions to try to get the stimulation back.

“Patience,” I chuckle as I slowly push it back into her. I’m watching for any sign of blood, any sign that tells me it’s hurting her, but all I get is resistance as her tight walls try to accommodate the size of the toy.

Edging has always been something I enjoyed. It prolongs the pleasure, making the orgasm more intense when you finally reach it.

Every time Ginny looks as though she’s about to come, I slowly pull the toy back. Her frustrated cries spur me on as I drive her toward a pleasure that will leave her boneless. “Please let me come!” she begs.

Reaching up, I pinch her nipple before slapping her breast. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

I keep alternating the toy between speeds, sometimes turning the clit stimulator off entirely. Her brows pull together as her lips turn down in a frown. “No, I don’t like that.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” I pull the toy out completely and slap her clit lightly. If I had her in my bed, I’d devour her in between sessions with the Rabbit before making her taste herself on my tongue as I drove it back into her.

Her hips lift to meet every thrust of the toy as she grips my forearms, attempting to keep me from pulling it back. “I don’t like it. I want to come!”

“Not yet.”

“Stop!” she shouts so sharply it startles me. Getting off thebed, I remove the Rabbit and step back, turning it off as she scrambles across the bed.

When she looks over at me, tears shine in her eyes, causing my chest to tighten. “Why are you about to cry again, Scarlett? I feel like I’m always making you cry.”

“I know. I’m sorry-” she sniffs.

“Don’t apologize. I’m not angry. I’m concerned.”

“It isn’t you…it’shim.” Her tears start to fall as a sob escapes her throat.

Him? Surely she doesn’t meanme?

“Him who, Scarlett?” I toss the toy on the loveseat behind me and move around the bed to go to her.

Pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs, she buries her face against them. “My foster brother,” she sobs, “he did this when we were kids—touched me and never let me finish.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as all the sound is sucked from the room. She’s sobbing, but I can’t hear it—only the rush of my blood as it comes to a raging boil throughout my veins. Expelling air through my nose, I start to count slowly, until the sounds of her cries creep along the edge of my hearing.

That fucking bastard. I’m going to kill him.

“You must think I’m disgusting,” she says through her tears.

Rushing toward her, I scoop her into my arms and sit her on my lap as I sit on the loveseat. She buries her face in my neck as I stroke her hair. “I could never think you were disgusting.He’sthe disgusting one.”

We sit there for so long that I lose track of time while I come up with all the ways I can kill Chris. Ginny’s sobs eventually subside as I continue to stroke her hair and her back, attempting to soothe her with words of comfort.

“May I ask when it started?” I ask when she’s finally calm.

It takes her a long time to answer. “When I was twelve—he was sixteen. It’s why…it’s why I call you my stranger. I used to imagine it was someone else, someone that looked likeyou. My stranger even sounded like you. I used to imagine visiting him so I could be far away from home. It was a way to deal with what was happening.”

Removing my hands from her body, I flex my fingers to relax my muscles so I don’t hurt her. Struggling to stay in character and not give away that I know her brother, my voice is deep—accent thick—as I ask, “Are you still in touch with this man? Your foster brother?”

“I’ve lived with him all my life.”

I knew he was cuckoo, but I never would have guessed it wasthisbad. I replay every interaction I’ve had with her. “He’s the one who hurt you. He’s the one you're afraid of.”

She was just a kid.

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