Page 171 of Breaking Rosalind
“I will if you keep looking at me, you psycho.”
He rolls his hips, grinding that hot erection into my pussy. “You’re enjoying this, pet.”
I shake my head. “You’re delusional.”
“And you’re in denial.” He brings my wrists together and clamps them together with one hand. “You can break out of this hold anytime you want, but you won’t because you like me too much.”
His infuriating grin glows in the semi-darkness. Squirming beneath his larger body, I jerk my head to the side to avoid listening to his bullshit. “There’s nothing I enjoy about you, asshole.”
With his free hand, he grips my throat and cuts off my air, making my heart jolt. I glare up at him with my teeth clenched.
“Your stitches have melted, pet. That sweet little pussy of yours is ready to be fucked.”
“How the fuck would you know about that? Did you stuff your cock inside me while I was sedated?”
He scoffs. “Do I look like I can’t get a woman?”
“Maybe once but not twice,” I snap. “Your ugliness is on the inside.”
“What are you saying pet?” he purrs, “That I’m hot?”
“You’re a fucking maniac?—”
His grip around my throat tightens, cutting off my words as the world swims in a dizzying whirlpool. His eyes gleam with a dangerous mix of fury and amusement.
“Perhaps,” he says, his voice silky and dark. “But you’re the one rubbing her erect nipples on my chest, while squirming against my cock.”
“Fuck you.” I snap out a sharp breath, feeling my vision blur and narrow.
The room tilts, and my senses go haywire. His grip around my wrist tightens, feeling like it might leave bruises. Wetness seeps through my panties, adding to the friction against my clit. My body moves against his, chasing the pleasure.
“Fight back, pet,” he growls, confirming my suspicions.
Cesare enjoys the hunt. He loves the feel of me struggling against his grip.
“Let go of my wrists, and I’ll give you a fight,” I say through clenched teeth.
Chuckling, he leans down and clamps his teeth into the juncture of my neck. Electricity shoots through my nerves, transforming pain into pleasure. My hips convulse, grinding my pussy against his hot, thick erection.
“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my neck. “Rub that needy clit against your master’s cock. Show me how much you want it.”
A cry rips from my throat, mingling frustration with fury. How the hell did I end up pinned beneath this loathsome creature, my body betraying me for another hit of spine-tingling pleasure?
Denial.
I hate Cesare. I hate how he’s slithered under my skin. I hate his unwavering attention. I hate how he’s the only man in a lifetime who’s ever made me feel alive. I hate that he’s charmed my daughter. I hate how he’s a psychopath, yet is careful not to cross certain lines of consent.
His psychological warfare is working. He’s even got me thinking I crave his touch.
Pleasure ignites my nerves, and I release a guttural moan. His grip around my throat tightens, and my vision turns black. A constellation of stars fills the darkness, dancing, spinning, picking up speed as my lungs fight for air.
Oblivion races on the edges of my senses. My instincts scream at me to free my wrists and end this madness, but I thrash beneath his grip, desperate for release.
Pressure builds behind my clit with an approaching orgasm. I move faster against him, chasing the ecstasy. My movements become more desperate, my body eager to climax before I succumb to the dark.
“Come for me, pet,” he growls.
His words set off an explosive orgasm that sends out shockwaves of rapture. Every nerve ending in my body tingles. My senses heightened to the point of pain. I convulse, my mouth opening in a silent scream, my core spasming and clenching and under his command.