Page 278 of Filthy Elites

I swallow as he hooks a finger in the thin material of my shirt, caressing my skin just underneath. “You do?”

He nods. “Ever since the night I saved you.”

I can’t think of anything to say. I’m too focused on how much I want him to keep touching me like this. And how much he shouldn’t.

“So, maybe enough got to be enough.”

Logically, I know what he’s saying is really bad, but it feels so good as his finger dips lower, tracing the curve of my breast. Tingles start between my thighs.

“Maybe I decided to claim you, whether you wanted me to or not.” His finger moves over and under the gentle curve. “Keep you forever. My pretty little plaything.” His fingertip grazes my nipple. I gasp, shifting my body in an attempt to move him since he’s taking it too far.

“Dare, stop,” I say, reaching down to gently remove his hand.

His lips curve up. “Yeah, that’s what you said.” Rather than stop, his palm closes around my breast and he squeezes. Leaning close, he whispers in my ear, “I didn’t listen, though.”

That is so fucked up.

I should be repulsed, horrified.

“Dare…”

“Sh,” he says, fingering my nipple and making me gasp against his shoulder. He stays on top of me, but shifts his position so he can use his knee to nudge my legs apart.

“Dare,” I repeat, more breathless, more conflicted.

He hears me, but ignores me.

“You have to stop,” I tell him, meaning it. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything like this—”

Before I can finish, his hand covers my mouth. I gasp, startled, but he keeps it there as he teases my nipple and presses his lips against my neck.

Oh, God.

Pleasure dances down my spine as his lips explore the sensitive column. His thumb moves back and forth over my nipple, stoking my fear and arousal in near equal measures. I feel so helpless pinned beneath him, his hand over my mouth so I can’t even ask him to stop.

He moves lower, his mouth hungrily claiming my throat. His grip on my mouth is so tight, I’m getting scared. I turn my head to try to break his grip, but it only tightens more.

I don’t know if he can feel my panic, but if he can, he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses my neck harder, then he bites me as he pinches my nipple. I cry out, but the sound is muffled against his palm.

Is this what it’s like to be with him?

It’s a little terrifying. Maybe only because of our circumstances, but he isn’t listening to me, and I’m not sure what to do.

Tears sting my eyes and I try again to break free. But he doesn’t let me. He kisses me harder, his tongue lapping at my skin and soothing the spot he just bit. He’s paying my breasts more attention now, squeezing and groping them like he owns me.

“Dare,” I cry against his hand. It’s muffled, but he knows I’m trying to say his name—or at least say something.

“Sh,” he murmurs, roughly kissing his way up my neck and along my jaw. He kisses my face right at the edge of where his hand is sealed over my mouth. It feels like an acknowledgment of my distress, and a deliberate way of letting me know he’s not going to move his hand.

I blink rapidly, spreading the moisture gathered at the corners of my eyes.

A tear squeezes out and he sees it.

He cocks his head, lets go of my boob, and catches the tear on the pad of his thumb. He examines it, then looks into my eyes as he puts his thumb into his mouth and licks it off.

My eyes widen, my tummy dropping in mild horror.

Did he just taste my tears?

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