Page 121 of Beautifully Shattered
Being restrained like this, my top half still covered in my black clingy knit top, the holster belt snug around my waist, but my pants pulled down exposing my bare arse, should have me freaking out. I should be scared. Should have me feeling a thousand timesmorehumiliated.
Yet all I feel is worshipped, and I know I’ll do just about anything this man asks of me when I’m like this.
“Good girl, Angel.”
His praise settles over me, a calmness sinking into my bones and making me feel a little drunk. When the heat of his body shifts back again, his hand running over the globe of my arse like he’s trying to rub the pain away, my body responds, my back arching, my arse pushing out like it’s his for the taking.
And shit… there it is, the familiar sensation of my milk letting down, sending filthy images through my head of him on his knees, mouth latched to my nipple, drinking me dry.
Dammit, I’m about five seconds away from asking him to drain my breasts again for the second time today. I’d been opposed to it after Bobbi’s funeral, but after Monday’s little killing spree… well. It changed me.
Again.
His hand smooths over my other arsecheek, almost soothingly, and I know exactly what’s coming.
More.
“Even good girls need to be reminded of who’s boss.”
Normally I’d roll my eyes, but stuff that. He can be my boss. My king. My damn God, if he keeps this up. I’ll kiss his feet if he asks me to.
When his hand comes down hard on my other cheek, my moan is loud, not even a hint of a squeal, his rumbling growl practically making me melt.
I’m acutely aware of how wet I am between my legs. Most of it’s from the way he’s making me feel. Some of it’s from what I’m now calling my after-bleed, and I’m thankful it’s so much lighter this week.
“Fuck, Angel. I like seeing the outline of my hand on your arse,” he rasps, pressing into my back, his hand sliding around to my front, his fingers grazing over my sex. “Ahhh, fuck. You’re soaked.”
A needy whimper escapes me as he finds my clit, pressing into it with the pads of his fingers in a teasing way.
“You wanna come, Angel?”
“Yes,” I rush out, trying to widen my stance, but my pants bunched around my ankles keep me locked in place.
“Such a pity that’s not gonna happen.”
I gasp as his fingers leave me, my wrists suddenly freed, and he spins me to face him, pinning me against the wall when I nearly trip over my own feet.
His shit-eating-grin is so smug I want to punch it off his face, and his low chuckle only makes it worse.
“You’re a prick.”
He shrugs. “And you’re a fucking brat lately, Angel. I’m just matching your mood.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove him back and try to bend so I can pull my pants up, but he stops me, his palm flat against my shoulder, pressing me into the tiles as he shakes his head.
“If you’re not going to follow through, then there’s no need for my pants to be down!” I snap, my anger flaring hot.
“One sec.” He smirks, ignoring my rage as he pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.
“What the hell!” I screech, trying to lunge for his phone, but he holds it up high, out of reach. “Delete that now!”
“No.”
I drop my hands to my sides, glaring at him and wishing I could set him on fire with my eyes.
“Delete it,Cameron.”
“No,Abbey. I want this for my spank bank.”
