Page 95 of Quinlan

Quinlan

Damien won’t tell mewhat Rex did to him.

Not this minute. Maybe never.

Honestly, I stopped caring over five minutes ago. The pain and pleasure of having him touch me while I needed to use the bathroom is maddening. They wiped out every other coherent thought from my head.

“Go.” He removes himself from me. “Use the bathroom. I’m waiting.”

“Do you have to be here?” I hardly care about that either. Everything in my body needs. Justneeds.

To relieve myself. To be touched. To come.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It hurts, needing everything so completely. It’s turning me into a wild woman.

A woman willing to do anything this sadist orders her to.

“Absolutely.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, leaning against the wall. Expression calm, betraying nothing. “Pee.”

I don’t ask him what’ll happen to me later. What he’ll do or won’t do to me. I don’t even ask myself those questions.

Won’t admit that I do, in fact, want his cock. I wasn’t lying about that.

Never.

“God, you’re such a jerk.” I tug my panties and slacks up, only so I can sprint to the toilet, shove them down again, clamp my knees shut, and go.

“Eyes on me.” The demand is less harsh than I would’ve expected. I look at him, discovering his sapphire eyes are as gentle as his voice. Ish. Gentle-ish. “Good girl, Quinlan.”

Those damn eyes. That voice. This isn’t an act.

Beneath the numerous masks he has on, beneath his cruelty, he cares.

About me.

The longer I go, the more the darkness in his eyes pushes out the blue. By the time I’m done, Damien’s eyes are darker than the night.

“Wipe.”

This is humiliating. More than humiliating, to be ordered like this. As if I’m a child.

This is mortifying.

It shouldn’t be this hot.

Itisn’thot.

It isn’t.

“Fine.” Quickly, I wipe myself and flush before he can come over and do that for me. Before Damien convinces me that I like this sick part of our game too.

I don’t.

My fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. He shakes his head. “Off. Take everything off.”

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