Page 63 of Hush Darling
A wave built on the horizon, strengthening in power until it was all that existed inside of her. She rode his hand as he rubbed between her thighs, certain he was a force of nature that would destroy whatever stood in its path, whatever she was before, and leave nothing recognizable behind. She was going to?—
“Get up.”
Startled by his abruptness, a slight sound of fear escaped her throat when he ripped his hand away and yanked her out of the seat. She clumsily tripped over her feet as he turned her, planting her hands on the back of the chair for support. He yanked off the shirt she wore and licked down her spine, not stopping until he was on his knees, biting into her ass cheeks.
“Wait,” she gasped when she realized what he planned to do.
“That word doesn’t work here.” He cupped her sex and groaned. “Just as I thought. You’re soaked.”
He lifted her off the chair and tossed her onto the blood-red coverlet of the dark, canopied bed. There was no time to assimilate as he roughly tugged her forward.
Then time stilled and he paused, a strange ripple of hesitation skittering across his dark features. He cursed under his breath and balled his outreached hand into a fist.
“Who are you?”
“I…told you. I’m Wendy Darling?—”
“No.” He wasn’t asking her name. “There’s something else, something different.” He stepped back from the bed, spooked by something she’d missed.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Stop talking,” he snapped, his dark eyes shifting with distrust.
She waited for him to continue, but he took another step back, putting more distance between them. Had she repulsed him in some way?
A sense of failure consumed her. That was when she acknowledged that part of her did want to please him.
What was wrong with her?
They should hate each other. She should be clawing out his eyes and cursing him to hell and back. But she needed to prove to herself that she could do this. Her need to succeed was driven by more than fear. It was driven by a dark and deeply buried seed of hope.
She wanted him to help her find this other side of herself. He might have intended his intentions as a threat, but the more he spoke about depravity, the more his words struck like a delicious promise.
Was that why he stopped? Did he sense her eagerness? Did that spoil his plans to torment her?
She wanted to pull him closer. She wanted to break herself on all his hard edges until she was so thoroughly shattered there was no salvageable part left of who she was. Only a truly damaged woman would crave such things, but no one else had ever made such an exhilarating promise to her before, and she was curious about what she’d find on the other side.
“Turn around. On your belly. Face down.”
She did as he said and waited, flinching when he finally traced a delicate knuckle down her spine. She braved a glance over her shoulder.
“I said turn around.”
She returned her gaze to the blankets and frowned. That gentle touch was more disarming than all his forcefulness. She preferred the chaos. It made it harder to think. The stillness left nowhere to run away. She had to bear the truth and acknowledge that she was allowing this not because he removed her choice but because she liked his hands on her.
The bed dipped as he pushed her thighs open. Warm breath moved over her as he leaned closer. She waited silently as he regained control, glad his little scare hadn’t spoiled his plans.
“Like a delicate flower.” He traced a finger along her slit, rimming her soft, pink folds without actually penetrating. “I wonder, what kind of woman responds this way to having her choice stripped away.”
She closed her eyes, wondering the same thing.
His stroking fingers moved so lightly over her skin her body rose to meet his touch. “I don’t even have to take it. You’re giving yourself to me.”
She could feel him in every cell of her body despite him barely touching her. He was in her veins, pulsing in places she couldn’t name, as if her heart pounded out his name, Hook, Hook, Hook, Hook…
“I can see you clenching. That’s your body begging for me.”
Anticipation stretched and consumed her. He seemed to be dragging it out on purpose—a new way of tormenting her and forcing her to see what she really was.
