“I’m not yours.” Her answer was quiet and tremulous.
Such bravery in the face of overwhelming superiority.
I stopped with my palm pressing her upper back down onto the mattress. Enough pressure that she could feel my strength, enough so that she tensed and then, as I didn’t relent, she gave in, her head lowering, her body quivering. Was she a true submissive? I was fairly certain she was.
“You’re pretty, beautiful even. Desirable. Fuckable. I scare you because I like pain more than you can comprehend. I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to carve off your flesh and eat it. But, little toy, I am going to hurt you more than you think you can take.”
She froze in the middle of inhaling. I smiled and grasped a big handful of those dark locks just above her nape. I levered her head back until she was arched and her breasts were no longer concealed beneath her. So I took one in the grip of my other hand. “Mine,” I whispered. “You’re mine whether you fucking want to be or not.”
I squeezed both her breast and the fistful of hair, and I leaned down to look into her fear-darkened eyes.
“You need to learn not to be afraid of pain,” I murmured. “And you know why?”
She swallowed and I felt her endeavor to shake her head. Long strands of her hair fell across her face.
“If you lose that fear of pain, you will lose some of your fear of me. Not all, some. I’m not your nemesis, girl, I’m just going to be your master.”
About The Author
Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be – dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.