Page 61 of Deadly Rival

He sighs. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry. Do as you’re told, pet, if you don’t want to add a public spanking to this evening’s fun.”

No. I can’t take one more indignity today. I open my mouth and let him feed me the bite-sized morsel. It’s really, really good, melting in my mouth with the perfect mix of spicy and sweet. I won’t starve in this place, that’s for sure. The food is insane.

Sebastian watches me swallow like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, then spears the steak from his own plate and holds it in front of my lips.

I frown. “That’s yours.”

“I don’t care. Open up.”

I do. I can feel myself slipping into compliance again, but what other choice do I have? If this evening has proven anything, it’s that the men here can do whatever they want to their Wards. I’m sure he could strip me naked, bend me over the table, and fuck me right here, and all he’d get would be a few disapproving looks.

Something deep in my core clenches at the lurid image. Eyes on us. Watching my debasement. Why isn’t that as horrifying as it should be? The salve must be messing with my head.

As I swallow the second bite of steak, Sebastian sets the fork down and takes a deep breath. I can see the moment darkness descends on him. His pupils dilate and his lips part, and my skin prickles like I’m sensing a predator. One hand grips my collar, tight enough to press on my throat, and the other goes to my breasts.

Oh God. Oh no.

If I thought it was intense before, I was wrong. How I felt earlier was a warmup for this all-out assault on my senses. He twists my nipple through the dress, then makes a frustrated noise and shoots his hand underneath, knocking my strap to the side. I yelp at the exposure, but then his fingers are on my sensitized skin, and everything else ceases to exist.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. A lightning bolt of pure need drives into my center. I moan, eyes closing. Gabriel’s voice makes it through the haze. “She’s hitting the peak. If you’re planning on doing something about it, now’s the time.”

Sebastian fixes my dress, then gets to his feet, pulling me with him.

He wraps his arm around my waist and just about carries me through the room. The other diners' faces blur as we reach a door and he pulls me through it. A sweet, lemony scent hits me as Sebastian sets me down and makes sure I’m steady on my feet before he lets me go.

We’re in a five-star bathroom, complete with a marble sink, a selection of expensive perfumes and cologne, and an enormous mirror, oval and edged with swirling gold just like the pictures outside. Sebastian locks the door, then points at the vanity, danger crackling off him in a cloud.

“Bend over. Hands on the bench. Now.”

His intentions couldn’t be any clearer. I picture it and can almost feel it, which sets off another blinding surge of need. Idon’t want this, but fuck, I need it. I need it more than anything.

Still, I hesitate. Once this is done, it can’t be undone. If he has me once, he'll do it again and again whenever he pleases. His reluctance to take that final step has been a paper-thin bubble of protection, and even though my body is screaming at me, it’s dangerous to let it go.

He takes a step toward me, then another. Then he’s up close, his hand is wrapped around my collar, and even the scent of him makes my blood race and my pussy clench. He turns my head up to face him as he shoves his hand between my legs.

There’s nothing gentle about how he touches me now. He grips me by the pussy, and the rough pressure of his fingers makes me yell and moan all at once. Everything else evaporates. My whole world narrows to the pressure on my clit as he drags me to the vanity and flattens me against the cool marble.

It’s happening. Oh God, it’s happening, and even though I’ll hate myself later, I can’t find a no. It’s vanished from my vocabulary. He lifts my skirt, bunching it up around my waist, and the pure humiliation of it hits me. Our first time, and it’s not in his bed or some beautiful place. I’m bent over a sink in a restaurant bathroom like a whore.

My pussy clenches again as the chink of his belt buckle hitting the floor rings through the room. Then his cock presses against my entrance, his fingers find my clit, and I forget where we are altogether.

He’s pressed against me, just the tip inside, but he’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving? I push back, all shame gone, but he holds me in place against the marble as he whispers, “What do you say? I told you the magic words.”

What? He moves his finger the tiniest fraction against my clit, and I cry out. The frustration is shredding my brain. Words? What fucking words?

“Say it, Ophelia, or I swear I’ll tie you up, cover you in the salve, and spend the rest of the night fucking your mouth. Last chance.”

It comes to me, and I stammer the words in a rush. “Please fuck me, sir.”

The wash of shame mixes with desire, and I don’t know which is stronger as he pushes inside me.

Yes. Oh my God. Yes.

I’m soaked, wetter than I’ve ever been in my life, but still feel every inch of him as he fills me. There’s pain as my body stretches, but the pleasure swallows it, consumes it, and uses it as fuel to burn even hotter. He feels good. Better than good. Better than anything has ever felt.

He groans as he settles all the way in, and it echoes through my bones. “Fuck, Ophelia. Jesus.”

He holds there for a long moment, then shifts his fingers on my clit and starts to thrust. Slowly at first, but he builds to a punishing rhythm. It’s almost too much pleasure at once, his fingers grinding on my clit as he fills me, and my control shatters right along with my goddamn mind.

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