Page 64 of Degrading Her

Her eyes widened. “You gave him a heart attack or something?”

I smiled softly. “Something.”

“I don’t understand your sense of humor,” she said.

And there was so much about her I didn’t understand either. For the longest time, I had thought I knew exactly what Fiona was like, how to make her tick, to show her the kind of woman she truly was. But she was so much more. She was ambitiousandkind, even when I was playing games with her, even when the world didn’t deserve that kind of brightness. And she was annoyingly persistent, in her beliefs, in her goals,in me.

I guess part of me wanted to let her believe I was joking about killing my father.

And what am I capable of?she had asked.

“You are so much stronger than you think,” I said. “You just have to figure out how to harness your power.”

She scoffed. “How can you even say that?”

“You stand up to me,” I said. Her pupils dilated, her lips parting. “And I love that about you.” My shoulders tensed, but I couldn’t stop myself: “You are incredible.”

Her lips trembled, a tear going down her cheek. I wiped it with my thumb, then held her. The tears built inside of her until finally, her chest convulsed in a sob. My shoulder soaked, but I gripped her tighter, hoping she understood. Hoping I could make her see how amazing she was.

As the tears stopped, I made sure she was okay, then nodded toward the dark library. “Grab a book,” I said. “A book that speaks to you. And bring it back here.”

“But—”

I put a finger to her lips. “Go.”

Her walk was messy, like she couldn’t concentrate on what she was doing, but she made her way through the shadowed aisles. After a moment, I followed her. She emerged from the fiction section with a book in her hands. Imotioned for her to bring it to the table in between the aisles.

A globe rested on one end of the table with a handful of knickknacks, a computer station on the other. But in the middle was a flat space, perfect for us.

“Hands on the table,” I said. She placed the book in front of her. “Read,” I commanded.

The pages feathered under her fingers as she found a passage she wanted. I grabbed a paperweight from the corner of the table and propped the book open.

“Even across the state fair, she knew he could see her,” she read, “with terror and adoration in his eyes.” I let my hands skim her hips, enjoying her curves, a shiver erupting down her spine. Her neck sprinkled with goosebumps. She paused, holding her breath.

“Keep reading,” I ordered.

“Despite everything that danced around them?—”

I lifted her shirt, grazing my fingertips over the bells of her breasts, then took her nipples between my fingers. She whined as I twisted, her stomach curling inward.

“Read.”

“The lights, the people, the thrill rides,” she breathed. I went down, letting my hands enter her skirt—that bare skin, the hair on her pussy, her wet lips. I shoved a finger inside and she gulped down a breath. I stopped.

“If you want to keep going, then you will keep reading, plaything.”

Her eyes sparked to me. I nodded toward the book.

“She had been waiting for him,” she read as I moved my finger harder into her cunt, “And somehow, he had always known and loved her.” I kept one hand on the curve of her pussy while I used my other hand to shove down my pants, letting them fall to the floor. Her head twisted to see me, but Ipressed my dick to her pussy lips. She gasped, pressing back against me, but I refused to enter her. I clenched my jaw.

“Sawyer,” she whispered.

She was so close to begging me.

“It’s two words,” I said. “Two words. That’s all it takes.”

“Sawyer.”

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