Page 57 of His Darkest Obsession
No!
My eyes fly open and I realize with embarrassment that my hands have moved—practically on their own accord—between my legs. One finger is already buried to the knuckle, and my clit aches for release as a ragged pant tumbles from my lips.
I pull my hand away, and immediately feel the ache of emptiness inside.
Tonight was proof enough of just how much power he has over me. Even with that knife in my hand, he’s still the one who holds all the power. But does it always have to be that way?
He can make my body respond to him, fine. He can make me want things I shouldn't want, okay.
But I can choose when I want to cede any more control over to him.
And even if he does deliver on giving me justice for my parents, I won't give him the satisfaction of complete surrender.
Iwillcontinue to resist him.
Marriage is one thing. But submission isn't part of the deal.
I won’t let him corrupt me.
And yet…
My eyes close and I can feel the heat of his body pressed against my back on that dining room table. He’d taken control from me, but he stopped right at the line that others have crossed so willingly.
I roll over and feel that irresistible heat wash over me as memory and fantasy start blurring together. My right hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of silken sheets, and IswearI can feel Anatoly’s hand wrapping tightly around it while his lips brush against my ear again.
I swear I can hear his zipper coming undone behind me.
Feel the heat of his cock throbbing between my legs.
My finger slips back inside of my wet and hungry pussy as I imagine him fucking me on that table. One hand tight aroundmy fist and the other one yanking me by my hair. It’s dirty. It’s wrong. It’s the last fucking thing I should want but it’s also the only single thing I fucking need.
Snap out of it, Indigo.I tell myself as my hand moves faster and faster.You can’t indulge in this. You can’t be thinking about this right now!
I can’t let him fuck my head.
But he’s already there. I imagine his sweat dripping down from his brow and blossoming across my back. They sizzle each time they make contact with my fevered skin.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
I bite down against the pillow to muffle one moan after another as they punch out from my throat. The sound of my own fingers moving between my slick folds and swollen clit echoes in the moonlight, wet and obscene.
And I don’t care.
I want it.
I want him.
I want him to claim me, break me, and shatter all of the walls that I’ve built up around myself so that I can reclaim what was taken from me. I want him to call me hisprintsessaas he buries himself to the hilt and fucks me without mercy.
I want him to bite down on my shoulder, my neck, my back as hard as I’m biting this pillow right now.
I want to feel him making me lose control.
Fuck me! Fuck me! PLEASE FUCK ME!
When I come, I fucking shatter.
Pleasure sends me lurching forward into the headboard. My face buries in the pillow as I shriek in time with my orgasm pulsing from the depth of my core. Toes curl. Legs shake. Sweat plasters my hair to my face. Tiny aftershocks of pleasure continue to burst through me as I pull out my finger and collapse against the soft bed.
