“No answer?” His breath is warm on my temple. “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”
The tip of his finger circles my clit, and my breath stutters in my chest, my mind going strangely blank. It’s as if every nerve ending in my body has come to life all at once. I’m hyperaware of his big, hard body pressing against my back and his stubble rasping across my ear, of his large hand resting low on my belly and the hot water spraying down on us. And that finger, that rough yet gentle finger. It’s barely touching me, yet my whole body feels like a coiled spring, each muscle rigid with anticipation.
Dimly, I register a strange sound, and realize it’s coming from me. It’s a moan, mixed with a kind of gasping whimper. It fills me with shame, but the embarrassment only intensifies my arousal, all my senses centering on the pulsing ache in the bundle of nerves he’s so cruelly teasing. I can feel the slickness between my thighs, and as his finger presses harder on the exquisitely sensitive flesh, the ache transforms into an unbearable tension, one that grows and intensifies with every second. It’s both pleasure and agony, and it’s so acute I’m vibrating with it, waves of heat rolling over my skin. I try to hold it off, to stop the tension from cresting, but it’s as impossible as holding back the tide.
With a choked gasp, I come, my whole body clenching in a release so intense my vision goes white behind my tightly closed eyelids. It goes on and on, the pleasure radiating out from my core in pulsing waves that leave me dazed and shaking, barely able to stand upright. I try to push my tormentor away, to end the terrifying pleasure, but he tightens his hold on me, and I have no choice but to ride it out, feeling every shameful ripple he forces from my body.
“That’s it, ptichka,” he breathes when I finally sag against him, panting and drained. “That was so beautiful.”
His hand leaves my sex, and I open my eyes, the post-orgasmic lethargy dissipating as the horror of what happened seeps in.
I came. I came at the hands of the man who ended my husband’s life.
He starts turning me around to face him, and I finally find the strength to act. With a pained moan, I twist out of his hold and stumble back, nearly crashing into the glass wall behind me. “Don’t!” My voice is high and thin, verging on hysterical. “Don’t touch me!”
To my surprise, Peter remains still, though I can see he’s still hard, still wanting me. Cocking his head to the side, he regards me silently for a few moments, then reaches over and turns off the shower.
“Come out,” he says gently, pushing open the door of the stall. “I think we’re clean enough.”
23
Peter
I dry myself off with a fluffy white towel; then I grab another one and wrap it around Sara as she steps out of the shower. She looks like she’s on the verge of shattering, her hazel eyes glittering with painful brightness, and despite the lust consuming me, I feel something close to pity.
She must hate herself right now. Almost as much as she hates me.
I rub the towel up and down her body, drying her, then wrap it around her wet hair. I know I’m treating her like a child instead of the grown woman that she is, but taking care of her calms me, helps me keep the darker impulses under control.
Helps me remember I don’t truly want to hurt her.
Bending down, I swing her up into my arms, and she lets out a startled gasp. “What are you doing?” She pushes at my chest. “Put me down!”
“In a second.” Ignoring her attempts to wriggle away, I carry her out of the bathroom. She’s light, easy to carry. It’s as if her bones are hollow, like those of an actual bird. She’s fragile, my Sara, but resilient at the same time.
If I’m careful, she’ll bend for me instead of breaking.
Reaching the bed, I put her down, and she grabs the blanket, pulling it over herself to cover her nakedness. Her gaze is filled with desperation as she scrambles backward on the bed, away from me.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you find some other woman to torture?”
“You know why, ptichka.” Climbing onto the bed, I yank the blanket out of her grasp. “I have no interest in anyone else.”
She jumps off the bed, clearly forgetting the futility of running from me, and I leap after her, catching her before she makes it to the door. My blood is pumping thickly in my veins, the monster rearing up as she struggles in my arms, and it takes all of my self-control not to crush her against a wall and fuck her raw.
If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want our first time to be like that, I would already be inside her.
“Stop fighting,” I grit out when she continues to writhe in my arms, trying to get away. I can feel my control unraveling, my cock reacting to her twisting movements as if to a lap dance. “I’m warning you, Sara…”
She freezes, comprehending the danger she’s in.
I inhale slowly, then release her and step back to minimize the temptation. “Get into bed,” I say harshly as she stands there, panting. “We’re going to sleep, understand?”
Her eyes widen. “You’re not going to—?”
“No,” I say grimly. Stepping forward, I take her arm to usher her to the bed. “Not tonight.”
No matter how torturous it will be, I’ll give Sara more time to get used to me. It’s the least I can do to make up for our violent beginning.
She’ll be mine soon, but not yet.
Not until I can be sure I won’t destroy her.
“Are you awake, Papa? Come play with me.” A small hand
