His Property(10)

His eyes narrowed, his chin raising in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought,” he said, as he let pulled his fingers away. I moaned involuntarily, wanting them back on me.

I hated him in that moment, hated that he’d brought me here to face the truth about my father, hated that he wasn’t listening to me, but I craved him too, wanted him almost more strongly than I ever had before.

It was twisted and wrong, and I could see that much more clearly in the rare moments that I was away from him – that day in the café with Maddie, when he left me alone in my room, when that police officer had seen the bruises on my wrist and didn’t seem to care – but when he was in my presence, it was like I didn’t care.

The only part of the wrongness that seemed to reach me when his hands were on me, when his tongue was on my skin, when he was ordering me around, when he was lashing me with his belt, when he was spanking me, was the humiliation I felt. And the humiliation only served to heighten my need for him.

Liam’s eyes flashed with desire and satisfaction, and something else – ownership, possession – as his hand moved back up and he slipped his finger into my mouth, making me taste myself on him.

I groaned and closed my eyes, not able to take the way he was looking at me, but he held me by the back of my neck and grabbed me roughly. “Eyes open,” he growled.

My eyes opened and locked on his. The sides of his mouth tugged into a devastating grin and my heart pounded in fear.

He took my hands and pushed them behind me, placing them on the metal railing that ran around the glass of the vestibule.

“Do not move your hands. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He picked me up, lifted me so that I was sitting on the railing, balanced, his hands on my hips. I felt small and delicate, and he handled my body so deftly, his strong frame lifting and moving and molding me to his whims as if I weighed nothing.

My pussy ached at the way he handled me, and the humiliation that was always there, vibrating and shimmering under the surface, caused my cheeks to color.

He pushed my skirt up roughly so that it was bunched around my waist.

“Liam – “ My hand started to move from the railing – he was holding me up, so there was no need for me to be holding onto it, except for the fact that it made me submissive to him – but he took my hand and forced it back onto the railing, his grip tightening around my wrist.

“Someone will see,” I whispered.

“Someone will see what?” he demanded, and I instantly wished I hadn’t said anything. Any response from me, any protest, no matter how seemingly slight, would result in him making whatever he was going to do worse.

“See what you’re doing to me.” My cheeks got hot.

“And what is that?”

I swallowed. “Pulling my skirt up.”

“And what else?” He’d let go of my wrists now and was holding my hips in his hands as he tilted my pelvis up toward his.

“Holding me by the hips,” I said, afraid of what he was actually about to do, right here in front of anyone who happened to walk in from the parking lot or step off the elevator.

“What else?” he prompted.

My mouth went dry even as my body was instantly responding to his, my pussy growing hot, my core clenching, my hips involuntarily tilting up.

He pushed my dress up more, his thumbs skating over my bare flesh, and then he leaned down and planted a kiss right beneath my belly button. I shivered and tipped my head back, closing my eyes.

“Eyes open,” he snapped.

I opened my eyes, watching as his tongue licked a searing trail from my navel down over the mound of my pussy, stopping right before he got to my slit.

“I want to humiliate you, Emery,” he growled. “I want to push you to your knees and make you take my cock all the way down your pretty little throat.”

I whimpered again.

“But this pussy,” he murmured, his finger sliding over my slit, opening my folds just a tiny bit. “I need to taste it first.”

“We should go inside,” I said. “A room, or the even the elevator.” The elevator, which just a few moments ago, would have seemed a ridiculous choice, now offered a level of protection I was willing to beg for.

“What am I going to do to you now, Emery?” he demanded, ignoring my request.

“Lick my pussy.”

“What else?”

“Slap it?” I tried.

His eyes lit with surprise and approval. He took one hand off my hip and slapped my pussy. “Plead.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please slap my pussy.” I’d said the word pussy before of course, but up until a few days ago I’d been a virgin – I’d never even done any kind of “regular” sex, much less this kind of sex, where I was forced to say dirty words and beg for pain. The words still felt new and dangerous on my mouth, like the first time you have a sip of beer or do a shot.