Page 11 of Little Death
His psychotic chuckle rumbles against my back. “You want to break two of those rules so quickly, pet?” His thumbs swipe up the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, causing the tingles to multiply. “So eager for a punishment, aren’t you?”
“Eager to get this over with so I can get the fuck out of here, maybe,” I mutter, but it comes out too breathless to lend my denial any credence. His hands resist mine, tugging them along for the ride as they trawl indecently high up my thighs.
No one is paying us any mind. By now, the crowd has taken full advantage of the open bar, and most of the media who’d been interviewing at the start of the event have been escorted off the premises. We could be alone for all the concern the people around direct to us.
“Is that what you think?” The words are pressed from his lips to my throat. His mask, a chilling contrast where it meets my skin.
“Ye-yes.”
As much as I try to ignore the sensation, it’s impossible.
“That’s too bad. I told you there were rules when you rolled those dice. You keep your mouth shut, and you let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. I think it’s time you learned what that means.”
CHAPTERFIVE
I’m trapped and enjoying it. I shift to put some distance between us, but only grind against an impressive erection.
Sensing the tension stitching into my muscles, he says, “Relax. If I wanted anyone to know what I was doing to you, they would. Luckily for you, I prefer to keep my business to myself.”
We fight over control of the territory of my upper thighs despite his warning, and he quickly overpowers me by taking both of my hands in one of his. His free hand slips beneath the hem of my dress and slides upward between my legs without hesitation. I suck in a breath, and it sounds like a gunshot in my head, but the band playing on the stage near the back of the property and the buzz of conversation and shouts from the dealers drown it out.
Struggling against him quickly proves to be a fruitless endeavor. Those rough, capable hands keep me well and truly trapped against his firm body as his fingers trace over the whisper of my minuscule panties. I should have fucking worn slacks, but that thought melts away as horror drains it out. My struggles increase, despite the futility, because I can’t let him know, can’t let him discover…
“Oh, pet, is this all for me?” he croons in my ear, his brogue thick with pleasure.
I freeze, mentally flying away to somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t here. Humiliation flames hot, though, keeping me too present to ignore as Aiden strokes the tip of one finger over the damp lace coating my pussy. He strokes down the outside of my underwear, pressing against the material to the point of obscenity. His moan of satisfaction sends me crashing back to reality.
Cheeks aflame, I try to turn away to get back to that floaty place where this doesn’t exist, but his fingers bite into my skin, keeping me firmly present and aware of what he’s doing to me. “You don’t get to hide away. You want to know what your punishment is for letting those men hear you? You get to come.”
My first thought is to snort again, until I realize that’s what got me into this mess, and I resist. It doesn’t sound like much of a punishment. Then, his finger does another lingering pass over my underwear. “Don’t. Not here. You don’t have to do this. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
Anyone could see us.
It could be splashed all over the news.
How am I more worried about this than he is? He touches me with abandon, completely unconcerned—or completely consumed by the thought of it — that everyone else here ceases to exist for him. We exist in a bubble where no one else can intrude. His singular focus is on me, and I quiver with terror, shame, and something too close to excitement to examine.
The things I’m learning about myself tonight will take a therapist a lifetime to unravel.
“I don’t want your promises. You’re already going to do whatever I want. Aren’t you?” Before I can answer, he’s inside me and sparks dance behind my closed eyelids.
The party continues around me as though Aiden isn’t finger-fucking me in the middle of it. Instead of struggling more, I grip his wrists, needing an anchor so I don’t simply fly away. A moan bubbles up in my throat, and I choke on it until I can breathe properly. It may be my imagination, but I swear the wet glide of his fingers thrusting in and out of me can be heard by everyone at the party.
“Aiden, we could—someone could see,” I sob.
“They could,” he admits, surprising the protests from my lips. “I could fuck you in front of them and you’d have to let me. But what you want tonight doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you understand what will happen if you ever come back.”
“I won’t, I won’t, I swear,” I pant.
His mouth presses to my ear again, and he must have noticed how it makes every part of me clench. He says, “I don’t believe you. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’m going to spend the rest of the night making you break over and over for me. When I’m done with you, I’ll bet every cent in my bank account you’ll wish I had.”
Panic spirals inside me as the party continues and Aiden’s fingers drive me higher and higher into madness. I fist the material of my dress, realizing belatedly he’d released his grip on me. Then his thumb comes into play, stroking across the sensitive, throbbing mess of my clit with firm, even pressure. Jolting back against him makes him bite my earlobe in warning.
“I don’t want you to make a sound. Drawing attention to yourself will only make your punishment worse. I’ll make you come so many times you’ll beg me to stop. Is that what you want? Why do you keep grinding your pussy into my hand? Do you want everyone to see what a good little slut you’re being for me?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My jaw is physically incapable of letting words pass my lips. My teeth stay glued together, and as long as I keep my eyes closed, I can pretend this is happening to someone else. Once again, I’m outside my body, a victim to the riot of sensations, until the band kicks up their set, smashing drums and cranking up the volume to play a cover of a popular song. Footsteps gallop to the makeshift dance floor, heedless of my torment.
The increase in volume covers my yelp when Aiden removes his fingers from my pussy to give me a sharpslap, slapright over the top of my clit, jolting me back to him. Eyes flying open, I jerk. As soon as I focus on him, his fingers return to me, sliding through the mess of my arousal and plunging so deep inside me I’ve never felt more connected to another human.
