Page 29 of Gilded Locks
She gasped as he plastered her body on the flat surface of the table, using his dominating size to hold her down. “This will be a lesson you never forget.” His hands traced up her arms until they folded over hers. He pressed down on her hands in a silent command for her to hold the position.
“You’re scared. But I swear you’re safe. Don’t let fear steal this opportunity from you. You’re so close to discovering a new sense of freedom. So close to safety. So close to feeling protected from whatever haunts you. You just have to trust us.”
She shuddered under the gravity of his words more than she did from the weight of his dominant hold. His hands curved over hers, pressing her fingers around the lip of the table. “Hold the edge and don’t move.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
“To show you.” He kicked open her legs, and more oil drizzled down her crack, sliding along her sex. Heat pressed into her back as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “If you tell me to stop, I will. Everything will stop. We’ll collect your things and never lay another hand on you. If that’s your choice, we’ll respect it. You’ll become the magistrate’s problem.”
His fingers worked inside of her, soft and teasing like the way he’d started.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She bit down on her lips, trapping them between her teeth, and shut her eyes.
“Good, printessa. Very good.” Deeper, he pressed, sometimes turning his pinched fingers in a corkscrew motion until he worked all four back inside. “You have to trust that we won’t hurt you. That means truly understanding your limits.”
She didn’t feel pain. She felt fullness. Pressure. And panic.
When she gasped for breath, he sensed the presence of something other than pleasure. “Your panic’s tricking you,” he whispered, not backing off but gently smoothing a hand over her damp hair. “Breathe with me. In.”
She matched his deep inhalation.
“Out.” His hand continued to calm her as the other breached her sex in ways she couldn’t fathom. “In.” His voice was coaxing her away from that edge of terror where anxiety took hold. “Out.” He waited for her breathing to settle, and then he praised her. “See how brave you are.” He kissed her cheek. “Such a good girl.” He pressed deeper.
Her fingers curled tightly around the lip of the table as a whimper escaped.
“Don’t tense. Stay loose. Keep breathing.” He added more oil. “The only thing preventing me from getting inside of you is your mind.”
He kept his booted stance inside of hers, forcing her legs wide, the rasp of denim against her bare inner thighs a delicious friction that made her squirm. He rested his free hand on her spine.
“Feel your body stretching to accommodate me.” He gently pressed and pulled, wedging his exploring touch deeper by small degrees. “I think you want to please me, but you’re afraid to admit it, afraid to discover what that says about the kind of woman you are.”
He was right.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the fact that you’re a good girl who takes what we provide.”
There was so much oil, she could only feel the pressure. Deeper now, he rocked his knuckles inside of her. It should have hurt, but instead something strange unfurled, and her lips parted on a sharp gasp.
“You’re feeling it now.”
Every sensation was strange and new. Intensely overwhelming.
“Some would be shocked to see what a woman’s body can handle. A fist. An arm. Three massive cocks.”
She sobbed—the building pleasure refusing to be denied by silence. No idea how deep he actually was, she sensed his presence inside of her through every nerve ending. Her muscles contracted, and her body no longer obeyed her brain. Ash had become the puppet master. He held the strings and had complete control of her.
“I like when you make noise, printessa. It shows your control’s slipping. Each startled gasp of pleasure’s an invitation to take a little more.”
A guttural sob escaped, borne of hedonistic confusion and carnal sin.
“That’s it. Take it like a good girl for Ash. Nothing sexier than a woman’s surrender.” He pumped his fingers deeper. “Such courage. Do you feel it? Feel my hand inside of you? Feel the power of disarming the fear.”
As he moved, her brain short-circuited. In and out, with slow, firm, dominating thrusts that drove her to her toes and rocked the table.
The sounds that escaped her were raw and primal, torn from depths she didn’t know existed. The moment he gave her permission to speak, she couldn’t shut herself up. Every thrust pushed a cry out of her, his masculine groans rumbling like distant thunder as she clenched around his invading fingers.
She felt him everywhere, rippling through her veins like fire that burned with erotic delight. His clothing rustled behind her, but she couldn’t see him. He purposely held her in a position where she could only feel.
