Page 140 of Can You Take It?

He leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth softly, and I feel his fingertip lift off the wax. “That’s kinda the point.”

The next drop of wax lands close to my inner thigh, just inches from where my pussy is throbbing for him, and I flinch, but I don’t scream this time. The pain is there, but it’s like I can’t feel it fully. My mind is too tangled up in him. The burn of the wax fades into something almost sweet when I see the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m the most precious, broken thing he’s ever held in his hands. His thumb strokes over the skin of my inner thigh, right near the fresh mark.

He tilts the candle, letting another drop fall. It lands so fucking close to my clit that I flinch, jerking my hips upwards. “You know what this reminds me of?” he asks. “The first time I realized I was in love with you.”

I blink, trying to process what the hell he’s saying through the haze of pain and pleasure. “What?”

He smirks, dragging the candle lower, the heat of the flame so close I can feel it licking at my skin. “The first time I saw you protective. You were so fucking protective of Austin, so fierce, that it broke something in me. Because I knew then you’d never had someone look out for you like that.”

“Stop,” I whisper, but it’s weak. I don’t even know if I want him to stop.

“You never let anyone take your power,” he says, his voice softening just a fraction. “But right now, you’re helpless, and you’re letting me be the one to strip it from you.”

His hips shift against me, and I feel the hard drag of his cock pressing into my inner thigh through his jeans, the friction tearing a gasp from my throat.

“Why the fuck does that turn you on?” I gasp as he lets another drop of wax fall, this time right onto my clit. The burnis immediate and I scream. My thighs tremble as the pain melts into pure pleasure.

“Because it’s real,” he growls. He moves the candle to my pussy, spreading my lips apart, and he looks down at me. “I want every fucking part of you. The good, the bad, the broken. I want to feel it all.”

I can’t help the moan that slips from my lips. “Even the part of me that lied to you? Lied to so many others?” I swallow hard, the guilt and shame pouring out in a flood I can’t stop. “The part where I kept my mouth shut while people died because I didn’t say a fucking word?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just keeps rubbing the candle up and down my slit, spreading my juices all over it. I can feel the cool, non-burning end pressing against my entrance now.

“What are you—” I start, but the words die on my lips as he pushes the candle inside me, the burning end brushing dangerously close to my inner thighs.

“It’s not burning you,” he murmurs, “but it’s close, isn’t it? Close enough to make you wonder what’ll happen if you move too much.”

“Richard,” I whisper.

He ignores the warning in my tone, his other hand sliding up to cup my breast, fingers pinching my nipple hard enough to make me arch into him. The movement makes the candle shift inside me, brushing against something that has me gasping.

Then I feel the first drop of hot wax, landing right above my pussy lips. Another drop follows, closer this time, and I can’t stop the startled cry that escapes me.

“Richard, I can feel it,” I say, the panic lacing my voice. “It’s—it’s getting too close.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to come, won’t you?” His thumb circles my nipple, and I let out a soft moan. “Unless you want your pretty little cunt scorched.”

My hips roll instinctively, desperate for more friction even as I try to keep still. I hear the faint crackle of the wick burning down, the wax melting faster with every second. My breath catches in my throat as I realize the candle is getting shorter, the burning end creeping closer with every moment.

“Why did you keep your mouth shut?”

The abrupt shift in his tone makes my mind stutter. The question feels misplaced, jarring against the raw sensations flooding my senses.

But it’s not misplaced. Of course, it’s not. I was the one who said it, who blurted out my guilt like some confession under the weight of his touch. And now he’s weaponizing it. His hand tightens around the candle, and he presses it just a little deeper.

“I was scared of death.”

The wick crackles again, louder this time. Another drop falls as the molten wax kisses my swollen lips with a burn that has me gasping.

Richard thrusts the candle completely inside me. “Why were you scared of death?”

Tears sting my eyes as my mind frantically starts searching for a way out even as my body betrays me, chasing the release I know will end this exquisite torture. If I want to keep my pussy from burning, I have no choice—I have to come. He knows it and he’s going to drag it out until I’m wrecked beyond recognition.

“When I escaped the basement, I began to experience life for the first time,” I say. “My mother did her best to explain what life was like outside those walls, but until you actually live it, you can’t really understand. For the first seventeen years of my life, I only knew the world through stories and glimpses from the games mom and I played. I heard about sunshine and rain, but I had never felt them. When I finally stepped outside and felt the sun on my skin and the rain on my face, it was overwhelming. I was so afraid because I realized how fragile life is, how quicklyit can be taken away. The more I experienced, the more I feared losing it all.”

“And now? Are you still scared of death?”

“I guess. Even more so when Victor made me kill Isla.”

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