Keep Me
Page 31
“Is that what you want, my pet?” He pinches my nipples forcefully, then rolls them between his fingers, causing me to bite back a moan of pleasure tinged with pain. His voice deepens, turning dark and seductive. “Do you want me to hurt you . . . to mark your soft skin and make you scream?”
I lick my lips, tremors of heat and anxious excitement running through my body. I should be frightened, particularly after our conversation tonight, but I’m desperately aroused instead. As perverse as it is, I want this too—I want the ferocity of his desire, the cruelty of his affection. I want to lose myself in the twisted rapture of his embrace, to forget about right and wrong and simply feel. “Yes,” I whisper, for the first time admitting to my own dark needs—to the aberrant craving he has instilled in me. “Yes, I do . . .”
Heat flares in his eyes, savage and volcanic, and then we’re tumbling to the bed in a primal tangle of limbs and flesh. There’s no trace of the deceptively gentle lover now, or of the sophisticated sadist who manipulates my mind and body every night. No, this Julian is pure male lust, untamed and uncontrolled.
His hands roam over my body, and his mouth is on me, licking, sucking, and biting every inch of my flesh. His left hand finds its way between my thighs, and one big finger pushes into me, making me gasp as he ruthlessly drives it in and out of my wet, quivering sex. He’s rough, but the heat inside me only intensifies, and I rake my nails down his back, desperate for more as we roll on the bed, going at each other like animals.
I end up on my back, pinned by his muscled body, my arms stretched above my head and my wrists caught in the iron grip of his right hand. It’s the position of the conquered, yet my heart pounds with anticipation rather than fear at the look of predatory hunger on his face.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says harshly, his knees wedging between my thighs and spreading them wide. There’s no seduction in his voice now, only raw, aggressive need. “I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy—and then I’m going to fuck you more. Do you understand me?”
I manage a tiny nod, my chest heaving as I stare up at him. My breathing is coming fast and hard, and my skin burns where his body touches me. For a moment, I can feel the throbbing length of his erection brushing against the inside of my thigh, the broad head smooth and velvety, and then he grasps his cock with his free hand and guides it to my entrance.
I’m wet, but nowhere near ready for the brutal thrust with which he joins our bodies, and a shock of pain lashes at my nerve endings as he slams into me, nearly splitting me in half. A cry escapes my throat and my inner muscles tighten, resisting the vicious penetration, but he doesn’t give me any time to adjust. Instead he sets a hard, bruising pace, claiming me with a violence that leaves me shaken and breathless, helpless to do anything but accept the relentless pounding of my body.
I don’t know how long he fucks me like this—or how many times I come from the battering force of his thrusts. All I know is that by the time he reaches his peak, shuddering over me, I’m hoarse from screaming and so sore that it hurts when he pulls out of me, the wetness of his semen stinging my abraded flesh.
I’m also too worn out to move, so he gets up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a cool, wet towel. Pressing it against my swollen sex, he gently cleans me, then goes down on me, his lips and tongue forcing my exhausted body into another orgasm.
And then we sleep, entwined in each other’s arms.
Chapter 12
Julian
The next morning I wake up when the sunlight touches my face. I deliberately left the drapes open last night, wanting to get an early start on the day. Light works better than any alarm with me, and it’s far less disruptive to Nora, who’s sleeping draped across my chest.
For a few minutes, I just lie there, luxuriating in the feel of her warm skin pressed against mine, in the soft exhalations of her breath and the way her long lashes lie like dark crescents on her cheeks. I had never wanted to sleep with a woman before her, had never understood the appeal of having another person in your bed for anything but fucking. It was only when I acquired my captive that I learned the simple pleasure of drifting off to sleep while holding her sleek little body . . . of feeling her next to me throughout the night.
Taking a deep breath, I gently shift Nora off me. I need to get up, though the temptation to lie there and do nothing is strong. She doesn’t wake up when I sit up, just rolls onto her side and continues sleeping, the blanket sliding off her body and leaving her back largely exposed to my gaze. Unable to resist, I lean over to kiss one slender shoulder and notice a few scratches and bruises marring her smooth skin—marks that I must’ve inflicted on her last night.
It turns me on, seeing them on her. I like the idea of branding her in some way, of leaving signs of my possession on her delicate flesh. She already wears my ring, but it’s not enough. I want more. With each passing day, my need for her grows, my obsession with her intensifying rather than lessening with time.
It disturbs me, this development. I had been hoping that seeing Nora every day and having her as my wife would quell this desperate hunger I feel for her all the time, but just the opposite seems to be happening. I resent every minute that I spend away from her, every moment that I’m not touching her. Just like with any addiction, I seem to require larger and larger doses of my chosen drug, my dependence on her increasing until I’m constantly craving my next fix.
I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost her. It’s a fear that makes me wake up in a cold sweat at night and assaults my mind at random times throughout the day. I know that she’s safe here on the estate—nothing short of a direct attack by a full-fledged army can penetrate my security—but I still can’t help worrying, can’t help fearing that she’ll be taken from me somehow. It’s insane, but I’m tempted to keep her chained to my side at all times, so I would know she’s okay.
I lick my lips, tremors of heat and anxious excitement running through my body. I should be frightened, particularly after our conversation tonight, but I’m desperately aroused instead. As perverse as it is, I want this too—I want the ferocity of his desire, the cruelty of his affection. I want to lose myself in the twisted rapture of his embrace, to forget about right and wrong and simply feel. “Yes,” I whisper, for the first time admitting to my own dark needs—to the aberrant craving he has instilled in me. “Yes, I do . . .”
Heat flares in his eyes, savage and volcanic, and then we’re tumbling to the bed in a primal tangle of limbs and flesh. There’s no trace of the deceptively gentle lover now, or of the sophisticated sadist who manipulates my mind and body every night. No, this Julian is pure male lust, untamed and uncontrolled.
His hands roam over my body, and his mouth is on me, licking, sucking, and biting every inch of my flesh. His left hand finds its way between my thighs, and one big finger pushes into me, making me gasp as he ruthlessly drives it in and out of my wet, quivering sex. He’s rough, but the heat inside me only intensifies, and I rake my nails down his back, desperate for more as we roll on the bed, going at each other like animals.
I end up on my back, pinned by his muscled body, my arms stretched above my head and my wrists caught in the iron grip of his right hand. It’s the position of the conquered, yet my heart pounds with anticipation rather than fear at the look of predatory hunger on his face.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says harshly, his knees wedging between my thighs and spreading them wide. There’s no seduction in his voice now, only raw, aggressive need. “I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy—and then I’m going to fuck you more. Do you understand me?”
I manage a tiny nod, my chest heaving as I stare up at him. My breathing is coming fast and hard, and my skin burns where his body touches me. For a moment, I can feel the throbbing length of his erection brushing against the inside of my thigh, the broad head smooth and velvety, and then he grasps his cock with his free hand and guides it to my entrance.
I’m wet, but nowhere near ready for the brutal thrust with which he joins our bodies, and a shock of pain lashes at my nerve endings as he slams into me, nearly splitting me in half. A cry escapes my throat and my inner muscles tighten, resisting the vicious penetration, but he doesn’t give me any time to adjust. Instead he sets a hard, bruising pace, claiming me with a violence that leaves me shaken and breathless, helpless to do anything but accept the relentless pounding of my body.
I don’t know how long he fucks me like this—or how many times I come from the battering force of his thrusts. All I know is that by the time he reaches his peak, shuddering over me, I’m hoarse from screaming and so sore that it hurts when he pulls out of me, the wetness of his semen stinging my abraded flesh.
I’m also too worn out to move, so he gets up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a cool, wet towel. Pressing it against my swollen sex, he gently cleans me, then goes down on me, his lips and tongue forcing my exhausted body into another orgasm.
And then we sleep, entwined in each other’s arms.
Chapter 12
Julian
The next morning I wake up when the sunlight touches my face. I deliberately left the drapes open last night, wanting to get an early start on the day. Light works better than any alarm with me, and it’s far less disruptive to Nora, who’s sleeping draped across my chest.
For a few minutes, I just lie there, luxuriating in the feel of her warm skin pressed against mine, in the soft exhalations of her breath and the way her long lashes lie like dark crescents on her cheeks. I had never wanted to sleep with a woman before her, had never understood the appeal of having another person in your bed for anything but fucking. It was only when I acquired my captive that I learned the simple pleasure of drifting off to sleep while holding her sleek little body . . . of feeling her next to me throughout the night.
Taking a deep breath, I gently shift Nora off me. I need to get up, though the temptation to lie there and do nothing is strong. She doesn’t wake up when I sit up, just rolls onto her side and continues sleeping, the blanket sliding off her body and leaving her back largely exposed to my gaze. Unable to resist, I lean over to kiss one slender shoulder and notice a few scratches and bruises marring her smooth skin—marks that I must’ve inflicted on her last night.
It turns me on, seeing them on her. I like the idea of branding her in some way, of leaving signs of my possession on her delicate flesh. She already wears my ring, but it’s not enough. I want more. With each passing day, my need for her grows, my obsession with her intensifying rather than lessening with time.
It disturbs me, this development. I had been hoping that seeing Nora every day and having her as my wife would quell this desperate hunger I feel for her all the time, but just the opposite seems to be happening. I resent every minute that I spend away from her, every moment that I’m not touching her. Just like with any addiction, I seem to require larger and larger doses of my chosen drug, my dependence on her increasing until I’m constantly craving my next fix.
I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost her. It’s a fear that makes me wake up in a cold sweat at night and assaults my mind at random times throughout the day. I know that she’s safe here on the estate—nothing short of a direct attack by a full-fledged army can penetrate my security—but I still can’t help worrying, can’t help fearing that she’ll be taken from me somehow. It’s insane, but I’m tempted to keep her chained to my side at all times, so I would know she’s okay.
