Page 96 of Quinlan

“You’ve seen enough.” I lift my chin. “I did everything you asked for. Enough is enough.”

Hands. One on my throat. The other in my hair. Pulling. Tugging. Yanking.

No air comes in. Damien has it. Damien hasme.

“One thing you’ll find out about me...” His perfect mouth is too close. He brushes it along my cheek. His scruff grazes my skin, and I shudder. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Showing Damien I’m into the pain he’s administering is wrong. I have to fight him. Have to go back to the safety of my room.

I have to.

“Tough luck. I am not—”

The fabric of my blouse rips apart. In the quiet bathroom, the sound is deafening.

“Please. Do keep telling me no.” His teeth scrape the area right beneath my jaw. He bites me, sucks on the wounded skin. “Give me a reason to torture you.”

“You already are torturing me,” I whisper. Can’t talk any louder than this. “Or is this your idea of being sweet?”

I could blame my mouth for running on me. I could. It would be a lie.

My sick, depraved body craves this man so badly. He ruins me. Breaks me down. And I’m dying for every twisted piece of him.

I wish… I wish Rome and Liam were here too.

“Filthy, filthy girl.” Damien pulls back, hauling me to my feet.

I stand there. I’m a statue, a doll for him to use.

Which he does.

My blouse is a gray fabric cascading to the floor. My bra is removed and discarded.

Damien bends to one knee, and I could take advantage of this moment. I could knee him in the nose, even with my pants and panties bunched around my bare feet.

If I break it, he’ll scream. I could make a beeline for my room.

Instead, I’m frozen. My hands are the only part of me that moves. They slide to grasp at Damien’s hair when he presses his nose to my swollen clit.

“Please.” Self-respect is a faraway concept. I’m soaked. Needy.

Empty.

I’ve never felt this empty in my life.

“Please, Damien.”

“Foot up.” He finishes the sentence by drawing back from my pussy. By biting the flesh of my thigh.

I scream and lift my foot simultaneously. Damien’s dark chuckle reaches me from the floor as he slides what’s left of my clothes past my foot. His hand is clasped around my ankle, placing my foot softly on the floor.

“Was that so hard?” His head is tilted, his gaze taunting me.

“You’re cruel,” I say, but my fingers are deep in his soft, thick hair. “Why are you doing this?”

“Other foot.” He’s quicker than I am. Bites my other thigh to get me to comply. “I remember asking you nicely to come out of the room for hours.”

I’m naked. My clothes are everywhere.

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