Page 150

“That’s such a good girl,” he praises. “I love it when you’re scared and begging.”

Just when I finally think I can breathe again, he steals it right back. His lips seal over mine in an electrifying kiss. My nails claw against his chest, earning me a low growl as he consumes my mouth with his own.

The energy between us crackles and explodes as we both drink from each other. Sparks of fire and the taste of bitter wine invade my tongue.

Poison has never tasted so good.

As our tongues fight for dominance, he grips my waist and lifts me effortlessly. My legs instinctively curl around his trim waist just as I feel the cool glass press against my back.

The temperature warring in my body feels just like his yin-yang eyes. The chill from the mirror threatens to send shivers curling through my body, yet the press of his body against my own is scorching hot.

A sharp bite of my pain on either side of my hips has me gasping into his mouth. In one swift tug, he rips my thong away from my body, the shredded fabric getting trapped somewhere between our bodies.

He pulls away and positions the head of his cock at the entrance.

“Spread your pussy for me, little mouse,” he orders. I open my mouth to argue, ready to tell him to just fuck me, but the look on his face renders me speechless.

Frustration mounting, I reach both hands between our bodies and do as he says. A red flush stains my chest as I spread myself apart. It’s demeaning when he knows I’m not supposed to want it.

He knows I want him to force himself inside me. And as punishment for insulting him, he’s going to make me show him how much I want him. By spreading my pussy and inviting him in.

God, I hate him.

His hands tighten on my hips painfully. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up with handprint bruises, and a part of me dreads that. It will be impossible to forget what happened when I’m wearing the imprint of his hands on my skin.

“Don’t you dare move your hands,” he threatens, a second before he’s pulling me down on his awaiting dick.

“Ah!” I shout, my hands seconds from flying to his chest so I can push off of him. He’s too much, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been.

My eyes are rounded into giant saucers as I whimper from the assault. I feel his girth slide between my fingers as he works himself inside deeper. “Stop! It doesn’t fit,” I gasp.

“What a poor little mouse,” he coos mockingly, his tone husky and tight. “Maybe one day you’ll let me treat this cunt like glass and show it all my love, but you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”

When I don’t answer, he jerks me down on him harder, earning another pained whimper. “Haven’t you?” he barks.

“Yes!” I shout breathlessly, squeezing my eyes shut against the invasion.

“Are you going to be a good little girl now?”

“Yes,” I mewl desperately. The pain is morphing into something far more intense and breathtaking. He slides out and pushes back in, gentler this time, but no less angry.

It feels like my body is on the cusp of bursting. This isn’t natural to be so goddamn full.

He pulls out to the tip, and then he slams his entire length inside of me, so deep, I swear I feel him coming up my throat. I cry out, my voice breaking from the swell of emotion building inside my chest.

Not fucking natural.

“Goddamn, Addie, I can barely fucking fit.”

Must be why it feels like he’s tearing me in half.

He starts out slow and forceful. Harsh thrusts, then dragging himself out at a torturous pace, before slamming inside me again. I feel my body beginning to relax, sucking him in greedily as he damns my soul with every stroke.

Widening his stance, he braces himself against the mirror, and my stomach tightens, sensing the oncoming damage he’s about to inflict on my organs.

Shockwaves scatter throughout my nerve endings as he quickens his pace, roughly fucking me against the mirror while loud noises I’ve never made in my life fall from my lips. The pleasure is blinding, and the feel of him sliding in and out between my fingers only heightens the potent lust stirring in the pit of my stomach.

“Look at us in the mirrors,” he demands roughly. It takes immense effort, but I pry my eyes open and sweep them over the dozens of mirrors. Every angle imaginable is staring back at me.