Chapter 20 Abigail
ABIGAIL
Iplace my hand in Dane’s outstretched palm, and his fingers close around mine in a firm cage. Apprehension flutters in my belly like the frantic beats of a trapped butterfly’s wings. The disconcerting sensation sets my senses on high alert, and my entire focus centers on him.
His handsome face is etched with hungry lines, as though someone has enhanced the sharpness on the world. His eyes blaze with emerald flames, burning with dark fire that entrances me. Our connection is hypnotic, and I rise to my feet as though he’s lifted my limbs on a puppet’s strings.
With no more than a gentle tug at my hand, he pulls me in his wake. I float alongside him, my breaths coming faster as though I’m jogging in the summer heat rather than strolling through his house. He leads me up the stairs, and we enter his bedroom.
The color scheme is vastly different from the sterile, pale tones in the rest of the house. The walls are painted a deep green that’s so dark it’s almost velvety, and the furniture is built in sturdy mahogany. A massive four-poster bed with a black-draped canopy dominates one wall.
My steps falter as my anxiety rises, eating away at my lust.
What if my body won’t relax to accommodate him? What if my inner muscles close so tightly that he can’t penetrate me?
Now that I’m in his private sanctuary, only mere feet away from his bed, my insecurities nip at me with sharp teeth.
As always, he’s attuned to my moods. He pauses and turns to me. Both hands settle on my waist, holding me so close that our bodies are almost touching.
“Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“It’s nothing.” I placate him automatically. I don’t want to ruin this moment with my damage.
I straighten my shoulders, determined to master my own body so that I can be with Dane in every way.
His lips firm to a warning slash that makes my stomach dip like I’m on a rollercoaster. A familiar, giddy thrill fizzes through me. I’m riding the edge of danger, and yet, I’m completely safe with Dane.
I marvel at the dichotomy, the fact that I’m able to indulge in this space where I’m both threatened and protected.
“Have you forgotten our contract already?” he challenges. “Complete honesty, Abigail. I want all of you. That means you will tell me all of your thoughts and feelings. You’re worried about something. Explain.”
“Sometimes, my body gets so tight that I can’t accept penetration,” I admit. “I’m scared that will happen again.”
His cocky smirk makes my clit pulse. “Trust me, pet. Your body will bend to my will. I fully intend to claim your sweet cunt. All you have to do is give yourself to me, and I’ll make sure you experience more pleasure than you ever thought possible.
No matter how long it takes, I will toy with you and torment you until you flower open for me. ”
“But what about you?” I ask breathily. The contract had been clear that my purpose is to please him, but he’s talking all about me and taking nothing for himself.
He caresses my cheek. “Sweet pet. Don’t worry. I’ll use you for my pleasure once I’m satisfied that you’ve been thoroughly punished.” His thumb rubs my sensitized lips. “I’ll devote just as much time to training this pretty mouth as I do to conquering your tight pussy.”
My breath stutters at his crass words. It’s like something out of my darkest fantasies, but this time, I’m completely willing. I’m eager for him to fulfil his wicked promises. It’s all I can do to keep my knees from folding so that I can worship his cruel perfection.
“I didn’t know it could be like this,” I confess.
His low laugh holds a mocking edge. “You don’t know anything yet. I will teach you the meaning of suffering, and you will weep in gratitude.”
This arrogant, domineering side of him should seem shockingly different from my dashing prince, but somehow, this feels right.
It’s as though I’m seeing him clearly for the first time, but this hidden facet of him doesn’t diminish the goodness of the man I’ve started to know over the last few weeks.
I marvel at the prospect that I can have both: my white knight and my dark god, all in one gorgeous package.
I push up onto my tiptoes, seeking a kiss. His cruel smile pierces my chest like a knife, but my core pulses in response as he denies me. This seduction will be on his terms, not mine. I don’t have to guess how to satisfy him; all I have to do is give myself over to his control.
My breath shudders between my parted lips, but he doesn’t caress them with his. He shows no mercy.
Instead, he keeps me pinned in his stare as he slowly drags my black cotton shirt up my torso. His hands skim my sides, tracing my shape without stimulating my most sensitive areas. He hasn’t so much as brushed my breasts, but my nipples are hard, aching buds against the inside of my purple bra.
He tugs my shirt over my head and tosses it away. Then he twines my amethyst curl around his finger and boldly cups my breast with his other hand.
It’s the lightest flex of his strong fingers, but it sends a pulse of pure lust humming through my entire body.
“This is a beautiful color on you,” he says. “You’ll wear it for me more often.”
It’s not a request, and his casual authority makes me melt.
Before I can nod in agreement, he wraps my curl around his wrist and pulls me in for a vicious kiss.
He claims me with tongue and teeth, alternating the softness of his full lips with punishing bites.
My hair is an anchor in the chain of his hand, keeping me steady as I’m swept up in desire as strong as a storm-tossed sea.
He’s the only thing tethering me to reality, the only person in existence.
He doesn’t break our kiss or release my hair as he deftly unbuttons my jeans with his free hand. I shimmy out of them without needing to be told. I’m eager to be naked with him, to finally feel his hard, glorious body against mine.
My fingers fly to his collar, fumbling at the small buttons.
He shackles my wrists, directing them away from his shirt.
“No,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want you naked and vulnerable. This is your punishment, pet.”
“But I want to touch you,” I protest breathily. “I want to see you.”
He nips at my lower lip. “You have to earn your rewards. It’s time for you to suffer for me.”
He releases me entirely and takes a step back. Cool air rushes over me, and my skin pebbles in the absence of his steady heat.
Before I can fold my arms over my chest to chase away the chill of vulnerability, he commands, “Take off your bra. I want to see what’s mine.”
I almost whimper at the wave of ruthless desire that rushes through me. My panties are wet with my arousal, and my clit pulses madly.
I’m his possession, his pet.
And he’s going to punish me.
My fingers tremble, but I manage to unclasp my bra after two fumbling attempts. The straps slide down my arms, and the soft skimming sensation over each of my goosebumps sets my entire body alight with carnal sensation.
He takes another step back, and I can’t help swaying toward him, as though I’m bound to him by invisible rope.
“Stay,” he admonishes. “I’m admiring my pretty pet.”
I manage to obey, but my hands are still shaking with the force of the adrenaline coursing through me. I want him so desperately that my swollen sex aches to be touched, but I’m compelled by his will.
A sense of lightness floods my mind, and my thoughts float away. There are no insecurities, no worries about whether or not my body will accept him. There’s no room in my world for anything other than his control. He has claimed ownership of me, but I’ve never felt freer than I do in this moment.
He strolls around me, taking me in from every angle. I hardly breathe, determined to obey and remain still for him to admire at his leisure. I feel exposed but safe. No one will hurt me while I’m in Dane’s care.
No one but him.
He’s promised to make me suffer, and I eagerly await the absolution he will offer me.
I feel his heat recede further, and I barely resist the urge to turn so that I can see where he’s going. My teeth worry my lower lip, and my fingernails bite into my palms in the long seconds that pass without his nearness.
Just when my anxiety begins to reach a fever pitch, his hand spans my lower back.
I jolt, and he shushes me gently.
His hard body is behind mine, and his corded arms encircle my waist. “Give me your wrists.”
I lift my hands in offering, and he loops hemp rope around them.
His movements are quick and efficient, and in less than a minute, my wrists are bound together.
He holds the length of rope like a leash and uses the tension to force my body to turn.
I spin in the cage of his arms, and suddenly, I’m trapped in his glittering emerald stare.
He’s almost a foot taller than I am, but I feel even smaller in his imposing shadow—as fragile as a wren captured in his elegant hand.
He keeps me pinned with his imposing gaze as he tugs on the rope, pulling my arms upward. When they’re fully extended above me, he loops the length over the wooden beam of the canopy. Another short tug forces me to stretch until I’m almost on my toes.
His chuckle rumbles with dark amusement at my predicament as he ties off his work, leaving me bound and naked except for my black cotton thong.
He takes his time to study me, as though I’m not even a person.
I’m a pretty thing for him to admire, a work of art that he possesses to view whenever it pleases him.
The sense of being objectified should be shameful, possibly even offensive.
But I’m molten for him, my entire being burning for more of his cruel attention.
As long as he’s looking at me, I have value.
Without his imperious gaze on me, I would be insignificant: a cheap replicated print not worthy of notice.
But he’s looking at me as though I’m his coveted masterpiece, his most treasured possession.
“Exquisite,” he praises, and I sigh in bliss.