Page 160 of His To Erase
“You crawl when I tell you to.”
He pauses.
“You come when I say.”
Then he leans in—lips brushing my cheek.
“And this pussy?” he murmurs, thrusting once. “This fucking pussy is mine now.”
He stays like that for a moment. Buried inside me. Breath ragged against my skin. And then, just as he pulls out, his lips brush my cheek again.
“Good girl.”
Fuck me, it almost sounds sweet. It shouldn’t sound like that. I didn’t realize I was such a whore for praise.
He stands and walks out of the room, while all I can do is stare up at the ceiling. My throat is raw, and every inch of me is flushed and aching.
My chest rises in erratic bursts, while my lungs drag in air like my body’s trying to piece itself back together.
What the fuck just happened?
Why do I want him to come back? And why do I feel empty now that he’s not touching me?
I try to close my legs, but I can’t.
Everything hurts. My thighs are shaking and my pussy’s still fluttering like it’s waiting for round two.
I hear footsteps, but I don’t sit up. He steps back into the room with a towel in hand, and something else I can’t see.
He crouches beside me—like he didn’t just fuck the soul out of my body. Too calm and too fucking unbothered for what he just did.
Then his voice slices through the silence. “Spread your legs.”
I blink up at him—dazed, unsure if I heard him right. When I whimper, he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m just cleaning you up, we’ve got all night.”
Something in me is still on the fucking floor crawling and I’m waiting for him to tell me what to do next. I don’t know what to do with this. With him. No one’s ever wiped me off before and I don’t know how to be touched like this.Not after being ruined like that.
Hell, he’s still leaking out of me.
His gaze drops to the space between my thighs like he could hear my thoughts, and I see the heat flash through his eyes.
Fucking hell.
The second the wet towel brushes my inner thigh, and I jerk, hissing through my teeth, still too raw to handle the drag of cotton on oversensitive skin.
He wipes me slowly—collecting the mess he made with a gentleness that floors me.
“This... is mine.”
His voice is gravel, and his eyes are still locked on the slick mess between my thighs. “And if anyone else so much as touches it—I’ll carve your name into their skin before I kill them.”
The air punches out of my lungs in one long, ragged breath. My mouth opens as heat, then confusion, then want, rip through my body all at once.
What the fuck is happening to me and when did I turn into someone that gets turned on by violence?
I swallow hard, praying my voice comes out steady.
“You’re insane,” I whisper—barely more than breath.
