Pennies (Dollar #1)(59)

My first orgasm was when I was twelve while I slept behind a dumpster. It’d been the only good thing in a sea of awful. After that, I’d become rather addicted to the brief but blistering bliss I could administer.

If Pim had never been given such a tool, how had she survived this long? How had she not wasted away and willed herself into a coffin whenever Alrik summoned her?

Goddammit, tonight just became far more complicated than I’d planned.

At least, she hadn’t moved her hand this time.

I shifted my body closer, wedging my dragon-tattooed chest against her nakedness and placing a trouser-clad leg over her thigh, holding her down. With our eyes tangled, I once again looped my fingers with hers directly over her *. “You have to do what I do. But for now, we’ll do it together.”

Putting pressure on her middle finger, I forced her to stroke her clit. The warmth from her skin seeped into me, regardless that I wasn’t the one touching her.

My cock hardened to the point of pain. Seeking salvation, I rocked against her hip.

Her eyes flared.

I rocked again, hating that her sharp hipbone dug so bloody right against my erection. “I’ll show you how. But to do so, I’m going to have to use you in other ways. Otherwise, I’ll go out of my f*cking mind.”

She shied away even as I forced her hand south, finding her entrance.

“No, you’re not running. Not this time.”

Breathing hard, I ordered my rapidly fading control to stay strong. This would test my limits. She would test my limits.

“Get ready to touch yourself, silent mouse. I’m going to enjoy this.”





HOLY SHIT, WHAT is he doing?

I stiffened as his hand forced mine, pressing my middle finger, giving me no option but to obey. My knuckles grew hot as his large palm smothered me.

I couldn’t look away as his teeth clamped his bottom lip. He made it impossible to prevent every cell burning with the erotic way he thrust against my hip. He hadn't removed his trousers, but that didn’t stop the steel heat of his erection branding me.

Too much was happening.

Too many stimuli.

I didn’t know what to focus on: his body sandwiched along mine, his hand ordering me to feel myself, or his cock taking pleasure from me in the strangest of ways.

He made me claustrophobic and prickly.

I want to run!

But then, everything else faded as the tip of my finger entered me.

Stop!

I deplored it.

I loathed it.

I…hated, hated, hated it.

My finger was so slim and small compared to what normally brutalised me. My nail was sharp as it slid inside me with the aid of Mr. Prest’s domination. My body stretched to accommodate the skinny digit and the strangest sensation of feeling myself made me shiver with wrongness.

I’d never touched anything so weird in all my life.

I wanted it over.

Now!

“Does it feel strange?” Mr. Prest angled my hand, pushing deeper.

My face contorted as the pad of my finger found an odd ridge inside me—something not quite as flexible or as warm as the rest.

Was it a scar from the mistreatment I’d endured? An injury that would never fully heal? Whatever it was vanished in importance as he forced me to sink further.

His deep voice rumbled from his chest to mine. “Do you like it?”

Like it?

No, I don’t like it.

I suffered guilt and shame and confusion.

He chuckled softly. “You’ll grow to like it…just wait and see.”

I doubt it.

He laughed again, his wrist shifting to capture my first finger and dip inside me, too. This time, the pressure and stretching was greater. However, two of my fingers were still far narrower than Master A’s cock.

I turned rigid as Mr. Prest's hot breath fluttered my hair, his erection jamming against my hip. “You need to come, Pim. I need to give you that so I’ve paid in some small measure for the things I’ll take from you.”

No way.

No chance.

Mentally, physically, spiritually, there was no way I could do it.

Come?

Ha!

I didn’t buy into such elusive make-believe. No way could I switch off my self-preservation, give into someone so completely, and trust that they wouldn’t hurt me at the pinnacle of my surrender.

He was a damn comedian if he believed I could do such a thing.

Let me go!

I squirmed, glaring into his black gaze.

Leave me the hell alone!

“Close your eyes.”

Fuck you.

He cocked an eyebrow when I disobeyed him, keeping my gaze wide.

“You want to watch?” He added more pressure, pulling my arm downward so my fingers disappeared entirely inside me. “I can get a mirror if you’d like? Talk you through it. Show you what your naughty hand is doing.”

I desperately wanted to shake my head—in case he thought my silence was a request for such revolting things. But he just chuckled at my discomfort and pulled my fingers free. “Let’s see if you hate this as much.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he glided my touch upward until it brushed the one part of me that’d shed its protecting numbness and flared with foreign feeling.

My clit.

The moment my fingers slipped over the hard bud, I jolted.