Page 41 of Absolution
“Beg.” One harsh thrust. “Beg me to fuck your tight little ass.”
“Please fuck me, Master,” I pant. “Please.”
Another punishing thrust. “Not good enough. Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck my ass, Master. Claim me. Make me yours.”
His only response is a primal snarl, and he increases the pressure on my clit as he drives deep inside me. Pain knifes through me as pleasure assails me. The dueling sensations push me over the edge.
“Dane!”
His name in my garbled shout is a trigger for him, and he bellows as he pumps into me. With one final thrust, he spills his seed inside me, marking me as his.
I’m owned, revered, and cherished. I’m his pet and his queen.
And I intend to keep my dark god forever.
14
ABIGAIL
The shadowy man hovers at the end of my bed, close enough that he could reach out and grab my ankles.
Terror thrums through me, but I’m frozen in place. There’s nothing I can do to evade him.
Dane.I need Dane.
I open my mouth to scream for him, but no sound comes out.
He can’t save me if he doesn’t know I’m in danger.
Another shadow appears at the man’s side. The little girl’s lips are parted on a wail that’s as silent as my own. Tears stream from her aqua eyes, and she reaches for me, seeking help that I can’t give.
The man’s silhouette wraps around her, dragging her into darkness. An echo of the shadow’s touch clings to my skin like toxic sludge, and I shudder in pure revulsion.
There’s nothing I can do. I’m powerless to stop him. I can’t save the little girl.
I can’t save myself.
My vocal cords are raw from my silent screams, and I swear I can hear the anguished sound locked inside my own head.
“Abigail!”
My eyes snap open, but I’m not fully free of the nightmare. The crying child is enfolded by the shadow, dragged deeper into the man’s sick embrace until she disappears entirely.
I sit bolt upright, my hand shooting out to grab at nothing. There’s no small hand to clutch. She’s gone.
A primal wail fills the bedroom, and hot tears sear my cheeks.
“You’re safe. Abigail, look at me.”
Dane’s voice. Dane’s hands on my shoulders, holding me as though I’m made of porcelain. Dane’s piercing green eyes, dark with worry.
I blink away my tears, and the shadows dissipate entirely. The bedroom is illuminated by the bedside lamp, the light chasing away the looming threat of the man’s silhouette.
Dane cups my chilled cheek with aching care. “Look at me.”
It’s a low command this time, even if the words are rough with desperation.
