Page 27 of Mine

His mouth moved to my other nipple, leaving the first one aching and sore. And still his fingers stroked, stroked, everywhere except where I needed. As his teeth ran across my breast, I shivered in anticipation.

What kind of a person was I, that this man could make me need him so much?

He pulled his hand back from underneath my dress, and I nearly sobbed with frustration. I couldn’t let him see how much I wanted release. I couldn’t let him see what heights he had brought me to.

With the hand that had been stroking me, he now reached up to my exposed breast. With one nipple in his mouth, he pinched the other with his thumb and finger. A cry escaped my throat as the pinch sent a searing burn through my chest. His fingers were still wet with my juices, and the pinch turned into a slick caress over my erect nipple.

“Am I hurting you? Please tell me if I am so I can ignore you.”

“Rien—”

He twisted my nipple hard, and I screamed, a short scream that went nowhere in the library, sucked up by the pages of the books that surrounded us.

“Pain and pleasure aren’t really different, are they?” he asked. “Like flipping your pillow over in the middle of the night. One side warm, one cold. You must have one before the other feels good again.”

He twisted again, and instead of screaming, I drew a breath inside of me, trying desperately to retreat from my body. I was not there. I was not feeling anything. This wasn’t me. I was a character again. I felt nothing, and nothing hurt. I would not be affected by Rien. He had no power over me.

But then he bent his head and took my hurt nipple into his mouth and I was pulled back into my body again. His tongue softened on my breast, caressing, and I bit back a moan of pleasure. Yes, he had power. He could make me want him, despite everything.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, Sara, but I can’t help myself.” His hand moved down and rested on my stomach. Such a small, intimate gesture. It made nausea twist through me. The way he held me, stroked me—it was as though I was his possession. His toy. And he was doing whatever he wanted with me, including toying with my emotions.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember him with the scalpel. Him torturing Gary on the operating room table. I tried to remember all of the blood. If I could hold onto these images, I could fight back against this feeling that threatened to take my whole body over.

He sucked in air, teeth grazing my nipple, and I shivered with the chill of air moving across my aching sensitive skin.

“I hope you’re enjoying this, Sara,” he said. “I don’t want any harm to come to you. Permanent harm, that is. But it’s been so long since I’ve had… fun like this. It’s hard to find the right kind of person. The kind of person who would enjoy it.”

I opened my eyes. He was leaning over me, looking straight into my face. His hair was dark, but his eyes were golden. So warm that I wanted to reach out to him for help.Save me from yourself.

I wanted to tell him no, that I wasn’t that kind of person. The kind of person who would enjoy this: being paralyzed, brought to dangle dangerously over a torturous edge of pleasure. But that wouldn’t be true. As much as I outwardly reviled him, my skin ached for his touch.

Under his fingers, my bodyhummed.

Still looking deep into my eyes, Rien slid his hand back down under my panties. I sucked in air and didn’t scream as his fingers moved alongside my entrance, his hot needful fingertips probing, stroking, caressing my folds. My heart pounded in my ears, thrumming like music.

“Rien…”

He said nothing, only leaned forward. His lips were inches from mine. His eyes fixed mine, and I thought again of the rabbits in that book. How, when they had come face to face with a predator, they froze and could not move. Even if I had not been sedated, I don’t think I could have moved an inch.

Again his fingers slid into me, thick and slow. I gasped as he filled me, stretching my opening slowly, slowly, so slowly that my eyes burned with tears of frustration.

“Rien.”

His lips moved slightly, but I could not make out his words. His fingers slid out, then back again, again slowly. I moaned. Forgotten were all of my promises to myself. I could not keep myself from wanting this, no, not when his fingers stretched me and tortured me with the thought of ecstasy just over the edge. I would fall, he would make me fall. My body ached to arch against his fingers, but I had no control over any muscles down there and I had to wait.

Wait for him.

“Please, Rien,” I murmured, staring up into his eyes. I could not read his face; he was hidden from me. His fingers slid in and out faster, though, and I cried out loud as his thumb grazed my swollen, aching clit.

“Yes.” I said. I could feel the end coming. I felt my body rising up inside as his rhythm matched exactly what I would have chosen, had I been able to move. His fingers thrust into me over and over, his thumb brushing me again and sending another gasp shuddering through my body. I was close.So close.

The light in the room seemed to flicker and dim, but that was only my eyelashes fluttering as I felt the pressure inside of me build and come to a head.

“Harder,” I whispered, “harder, oh please, harder,” and clenched my eyes shut, waiting for my release.

Then his fingers slid out and he was gone.

Gone?

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