Page 35 of The Puppetmaster

Chapter 22

Alena

His name is Michael Raad Brower. I know that now. I don’t know why this knowledge pops back into my head now that I have his hand between my legs, but it does.

Michael Raad.

That is such an unusual name, a name I’ve never heard before. Raad. Where does this come from? It suggests an exotic background that I can’t place.

I only found out this information by accident. It wasn’t written on the mailbox or anything, but on a letter that I saw in the driver’s hand as he opened the door for me to get out of the car. He stood there, his left hand right at eye level, standing motionless just long enough for me to read the address on it.

I can’t even be sure if that is really his name, because it could have been the driver’s personal mail just as easily.

But why would he take it with him into the house? Why would he even have it in his hand if it wasn’t to deliver it to his employer?

No, it must be his name.

Michael Raad is the man who is touching me right now. He is the man who humiliates me by exposing my arousal in such an intrusive manner.

And he is also the man who made me this wet in the first place.

I can’t suppress a needy groan when he begins to draw circles across my most sensitive spot. I knew I was wet for him, but I don’t know why I wasn’t able to tell him when he asked.

Maybe it was because I wanted this? Because I wanted him to touch me the way he is touching me now.

“Such a good little slut,” he breathes close to my face, a triumphant smile framing his gorgeous face.

He keeps me locked in place, forcing me to hold eye contact even when there’s nothing I’d rather do than hide in embarrassment. My gaze is locked on his, and now that we’re this close, I realize for the first time how dark his eyes really are. I have never seen eyes like his, a deep black so mesmerizing and mysterious that it’s easy to lose myself in their depths.

I feel drawn to the obscurity and the secrets these eyes are hiding. There’s something there, a knowledge, a profound understanding about me and my needs that almost frightens me.

Already he has shown that he knows exactly which of my buttons to push, and he has given me a taste of his strict hand and rules that are never to be broken, even if I don’t see the logic behind them.

He spreads me further, teasing and caressing my swollen center as he starts playing with my arousal, dampening his fingers until they’re soaked.

“You warned me not to drip on your floor,” I remind him, squirming under his treatment. “How could it be my fault if you keep doing this?”

He smirks at me, shaking his head.

“Smart ass,” he hisses as he slides his finger inside me with one brute push. I jump up again, squealing in a blend of delight and agony. I moan loudly as he bends his thick finger deep inside me, knowing just where to press to send a titillating spark tingling through my entire body.

Fuck.

He keeps forcing himself inside me, increasing the pressure on that magic spot right behind my entrance, simultaneously rubbing my clit with his palm, keeping my lips spread apart. It’s so invasive, playing havoc with me as electric sparks dart through my core. The intensity is almost blinding, sending me on a tightrope dance between agony and sheer pleasure.

“Don’t you dare come!” he barks at me when my insides start clenching around his finger.

I let out a desperate wail, shifting away from his caress as much as he lets me.

His breathing accelerates just as much as mine, a threat flaring in his raven-black eyes.

“I swear to you, Alena, if you come without permission you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

His intimidation does the exact opposite of what I assume he intended. Another rush of heat curls deep through my lower core, luring out new waves of an impending climax, one that I’m not allowed to have.

“Then... stop,” I beg under heavy breaths, my pleading eyes locked onto his.

But he shakes his head.

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