Page 160 of Dance of Deception

But still, I’m looking at it while it happens. Staring it in the face like a fucking nightmare.

I flinch, my eyes squeezing shut as the memories of that horrible day filter back in. The chains. The cages. The rack of dresses. The sound of flesh slapping flesh?—

“Open your eyes, little dancer,” Carmine rasps into my ear. His hand slides up my body, pinching and rolling a nipple so hard I cry out before that same hand slips up to cup my jaw. “You will not be held captive by the past anymore,” he growls.

Slowly, his fingers start to rub my clit. I whimper, my teeth clamping down on my lower lip as my knees shake. I start to close my eyes again. Instantly, his long, powerful fingers are wrapping tight around my throat, sending a dark, vicious bolt throbbing through my core and making my eyes snap open.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” Carmine murmurs.

He suddenly pushes two fingers into me. A moan tumbles from my lips as my gaze drops between my legs, my mouth hanging open as I watch his thick fingers sink into me, stretching me open, stroking in and out. I watch my stomach muscles tighten and my nipples tighten to two aching pink peaks as Carmine fingers me and forces me to watch it all unfold.

There's no escape from his presence, his control, his heat.

Or from myself.

He presses against me, his hands moving deliberately, forcing me to feel every touch, to watch exactly what he's doing to me.

“Look at yourself like this, little dancer.”

I shudder, nails dragging against the glass. But then I truly see myself. I see us.

And it doesn’t look like fear.

Carmine’s hand roams from my throat to my breast, cupping it possessively and pinching the nipple between his thumb and finger. He rolls the throbbing point, bringing another ragged moan to my lips as his thick fingers thrust into me.

He leans closer, his teeth scraping my throat. “Such a good girl. You're doing so well. Keep your palms on the mirror. Don’t look away.”

He works me up slowly, teasingly, his fingers dragging me toward something inevitable that I can’t fight. The pleasure builds, his fingers curling inside me and stroking me toward my explosion. I whimper, my eyes flickering.

“Eyes open.” His teeth press into my neck, branding me. “I want you to watch yourself come.”

I cry out, my body shaking, my head tilted back against his shoulder. His fingers ram into me, harder, faster, scissoring deep as his palm grinds against my throbbing clit. His fingers roll my nipples, pinching them as his teeth sink into my neck.

My eyes snap to my own in the mirror. And suddenly, I don’t see shame or fear, or anxiety, or anything to be run from.

I seeme, breaking apart at the seams.

…And I shatter without warning.

The orgasm crashes over me like a shockwave, my hands pressed desperately to the mirror, my breath ragged and gasping.

Carmine doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let me go.

He holds me there, keeping me anchored, keeping me in the moment, forcing me to watch myself come. Forcing me to watch my flushed skin, wild eyes. A body that doesn’t look afraid anymore.

I barely have time to process it all before suddenly he’s inside me, stretching and filling me.

I gasp as his thick, swollen cock pushes into me from behind, my fingers clenched into fists against the mirror.

Carmine groans, his lips brushing my ear. “That’s it, baby. Watch how perfectly you take me.”

Suddenly, I can’t look away.

I don’t want to.

He starts tortuously slow, dragging it out, making me feel every inch of him.

Then, he snaps his hips forward and drives into me harder, deeper, rougher.

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