Page 18 of Shane: His to Possess
“You’re holding the glass,” she rasped.
His smile was a dark expression that flashed across his face, suggesting more malice than amusement. “I am.”
With an almost teasing motion, he trailed the glass to her other nipple, repeating the ritual of bending to suck her nipple before applying the glass again. This time, she didn’t move at all, and he pulled the shard down her stomach a second later.
Mia clenched her muscles as the broken piece moved over her abdomen. She wanted to shake her head, to refuse the knowledge of his intent, but couldn’t make herself move.
The glass grazed her puffed labia, and she bit her lip when a jolt shot through her. She couldn’t identify it as solely pleasure or pain. Rather, it was some twisted version of both, along with a healthy dose of fear.
“I hold the glass.” He parted her lips with one hand, spreading her with two of his fingers. “I control where it goes and what I do with it, but your movements are what makes it cut.”
She took a shallow breath as he pressed the glass against her clitoris. It almost hurt, but not quite. A gasp left her a second later when he stroked her swollen nub with a large finger. The glass didn’t move from where he held it pressed against her sensitive flesh. If she moved at all, it would cut her.
Her folds grew slick with moisture as he touched her. Mia bit her tongue until she tasted blood to keep from moving her hips. If she moved the wrong way, the glass would penetrate her. The safest course was to stay still and let Shane do what he wanted to her body.
She got the lesson. It was all too clear.
“So wet. So responsive.” He circled her clit before pressing on the bundle of nerves. “I know what you need, Mia, and I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is stop making the wrong moves.”
She was moaning and clutching the worn table to keep still under his passionate onslaught. “Please,” she whispered, forgetting her vow not to ask or beg him for anything.
“Please, what?” He stroked her again, paying special attention to the underside of her clit that was so sensitive. “Please stop or please make you come?”
Mia’s spine stiffened as warmth radiated from her stomach downward. An orgasm was coming, and she could do nothing to stave it off or encourage it without moving. Moving would mean voluntarily hurting herself either to avoid the pleasure or receive it that much faster. “You’re such a bastard.”
He laughed, but his fingers remained steady as he coaxed her to climax. The shard never moved as he pulled her over the edge.
Mia gasped and her muscles trembled involuntarily as she came with a gush of moisture on his hand. The glass didn’t waver from her hypersensitive flesh, and it increased the intensity of her orgasm. It wasn’t the slight sting, or even the promise of pain if she moved. Rather, it was knowing Shane maintained total control, and if she let him guide her, she wouldn’t get hurt.
That was completely rational in the heat of the moment, but she hated herself for the thought as her mind sharpened following the blissful release. She glared up at him. “Are you done?”
He smiled. “We aren’t even close to done, honey, but I’m finished with this lesson.” With a careless flick of his wrist, he dropped the glass shard onto the floor and lifted her by the waist. “Now, we’ll go up to your room and fuck.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
One of his fingers slid inside her hot folds with no resistance. “You keep telling yourself that, Mia. Meanwhile, your pussy is soaked from a quick finger-fuck.” His eyes gleamed with speculation. “Maybe it had more to do with the threat of hurting, though?” Lifting a shoulder, he said, “If you want pain, I’ll give it to you, though it isn’t my preference.”
He set her on her feet and handed her the clothes he’d stripped from her before. “I’d much rather treasure you than hurt you, but I’ll do what you make me do.” Shane watched her dress, reaching out to stop her from putting on her panties and bra. “You won’t need those.” He tucked them into his pocket.
“You’re the typical abuser, always blaming your victim instead of taking responsibility for your actions.” She winced as the seam of her jeans pressed against her vagina, still swollen and sensitive from her recent orgasm. The irony of that wasn’t lost on her. “I’d be more inclined to accept that my responses dictate your actions if I were here with you by choice.”
“You might be my victim, but you hold the power.” He clutched her throat to pull her nearer. There was restrained violence in the motion, but his mouth was a startlingly gentle contrast when he kissed her. She couldn’t hold out against his tenderness and found herself returning the soft kiss before trying to deepen it.
A dart of pain hit her scalp when he tugged her ponytail to pull her away. “Think long and hard about what you’re doing, Mia. Keep fighting me and nurture the animal within, or give in to this connection between us and I’ll give you more pleasure than you could ever imagine possible.”
“There is no connection,” she whispered, even as she remembered the first time she had served him. He had been at the restaurant with a stunning blonde, and she had grown clumsy under his green eyes. Mia had found it difficult to speak and mixed up their order. That had surprised Mr. Lovelle, because she had never done that, even as a newbie waitress.
After that night, Mia had forced herself to forget the instant their gazes locked. She had recognized the unbridled lust in his expression but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge she’d felt the same damn thing. Whenever he came into the restaurant after that, she tried to trade tables, and on the occasions that she had to serve him, she had made herself ignore any kind of reaction to him.
Not wanting intimacy with any man, she’d convinced herself she didn’t feel a spark of attraction, and she’d forgotten about that first night—until now, staring into those same eyes, seeing that same expression of naked need and obsessive desire. Wondering if he saw the same thing in her gaze?
Stunned by her realization, Mia followed him from the cellar, shifting unconsciously as the seam of her jeans rubbed her in an irritatingly stimulating fashion. By the time they were at her room, her body was ready for more, even as her mind fought the idea. She couldn’t let him control her, and she couldn’t let her own desires allow her to surrender to the man who had kidnapped her and taken her so roughly that first night. All the orgasms in the world couldn’t make up for that.
She watched through the veil of her eyelashes as he stripped off his clothes and indicated she should do the same with a wave of his hand. With deliberate intent, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him motionlessly.
He sighed with irritation as he stalked toward her. “Fuck, Mia, I’m starting to think you get off on resisting me.”
She whirled backward, not necessarily to evade him, but to escape his words. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was a ring of truth to his observation. Did she actually enjoy fighting him? Was there pleasure in resisting him before submitting? Not eager to examine her response to those questions, Mia forced her attention back to the moment.