Page 65 of Shattered Jewel
Pressing my foot down, I start rubbing her clit with the sole of my shoe in slow circles.
Elara screams out in both loathing and pleasure, her body spasming violently beneath my shoe.
Her hips buck upward, trying to meet my touch at the same time she uses her arms to pull back and recoil. I keep my pace steady, watching the way her chest heaves with each harsh pant. Her hands fumble for something, anything to hold on to, only meeting impenetrable, jagged ruby. She’s tied down, a victim of my prerogatives.
I can tell Elara’s close; her body is a live wire beneath me, building up more and more with every circle of my shoe. I increase the pressure, relishing the cry that rips from her throat.
“You want to come?” I ask, though it’s hardly a question.
“No.” Her eyes are furious and desperate. “Not like this. Not like I’m worthless to you.”
She’s right. Elara’s anything but worthless. She’s everything, far too much than I’ve bargained for. A hit too close to home that leaves me reeling, questioning my intentions.
She grimaces and whimpers when I rub the toe of my shoe against her clit, centering on her swollen nub.
An involuntary tremor wracks her body in response. Her outraged pleasure transforms into a stunned silence that blankets the room.
“You’re not worthless,” I murmur so she can’t hear. “You’re dangerous.”
A choked moan escapes her throat, and she writhes on the desk beneath me. Heat pools between us, thick and dark as tar, every bit as deadly. She’s so close to release that I can practically taste it on my tongue.
Tears slip from the corners of her eyes, running down her cheeks and into her hair. But she doesn’t break eye contact. She doesn’t look away from me even once.
With that, I press harder with my shoe, grinding into her with unrestrained force. Elara cries out in surprise and raw ecstasy as her orgasm crashes over her in waves of pulsating bliss.
Her body convulses and spasms against the desk, the necklace chains rattling while I watch with raptorial satisfaction. This moment belongs to me. I control it all—the whimpers falling from her lips and the quiver of each aftershock surging through her body.
Lifting my foot from her warmth, I thrust into her with my cock, riding out the crest of her orgasm inside her.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I warn as I bend over her, pushing into her again.
But we both know it’s a lie.
Just as our rapture peaks and we tumble into the abyss together, I can’t help but whisper one final command into her ear.
“Forget me.”
But even as I say the words, I know she won’t. Even if she wanted to, she can’t forgive this or forget me. We’re bound by something darker than love, something deeper than hate. We’re bound by a need that’s as destructive as it is irresistible.
I watch with hooded eyes as she comes apart, my own release consuming me in a bonfire of primal sensation. Sweat trickles down my forehead as I collapse on top of her, panting and shuddering from the aftershocks that continue to rock us both.
My shoulder wound has re-opened, mixing blood and semen all over her, over us.
Once I’m sure she’s spent, I push off her, leaving Elara panting and splayed, a beautifully demolished mess.
As I fasten my pants and start to collect the scattered papers, I cut a look at Elara—still tied down, still gasping for breath.
I think back to her desperate plea earlier. Don’t break me again.
A dark grin tugs at my lips. It’s what I do.
Elara tries to regain control of her shaking limbs with a weak attempt to sit up on the desk. Her lips are swollen, her eyes half-lidded from exhaustion.
Damn, she’s a sight to behold.
She shoots me a glare that would have any other man ducking, but not me. That tiny ember remaining in her sends a charge through me, like some dick critical care doctor has strapped a defibrillator to my chest and said, He doesn’t get to die yet. Let him live inside his wretched mind a little longer.
I stroll over to where the rest of our clothes lay scattered on the floor, gathering them with one arm before throwing her T-shirt back at her without any sort of warning. Her arms, lowered but still chained at the wrist, manage to catch it.