Pennies (Dollar #1)(67)

I didn’t know him.

But I wanted to.

He’d saved my life by giving me a second of happiness. I wanted him to remain in my life. But I knew that wasn’t possible.

He practically hissed with heat. I couldn’t think while he looked at me like that, kissed me like that, stole everything from me like that.

His tongue slid leisurely along my bottom lip, making me crave what he gave so recklessly. I wanted his tongue on me, inside me, consuming me. I wanted things I didn’t understand or ever thought I’d contemplate.

His heavy-lidded glower was furious, angry, full of lust, lust, lust. He screamed sex. But not rape. Sex. Consensual sex—so far from the realm of everything I knew.

His chest rippled as his hand cupped my cheek again. His belly tightened, making his dragon smoke and sizzle.

“I’ve finally made you talk, Pim.” The glitter in his gaze danced with knowledge. “Your body likes me, even if you don’t.”

The surge of complicated, unknown emotions battered me just as nastily as Master A’s fists. I didn’t know why, but in that second, I was devastated—not from the pleasure he’d given, but the low that would hit so damn hard once he left.

I wanted to live in this moment for eternity.

I wanted to find self-worth and happiness in this false togetherness. I wanted companionship but by wanting that, it made me weak because I wanted to lean on him after leaning on myself for so, so long.

I liked him.

He kissed me again, stopping my thoughts and forcing me to accept him on a deeper level than I ever intended.

I was no longer a slave or imprisoned or trapped.

I was kissed.

Kissed.

Mr. Prest slowly pulled away, taking his heat, warmth, and protection with him.

That was…I didn’t have words.

Exquisite?

Devine?

Terrifying?

I hovered in the final bliss of the best thing I’d been given in so long, plummeting into lethargy so heavy and consuming, I struggled to keep my eyes open. What had he done to me? Why did I feel drugged and obsessed and so, so tired?

He didn’t move.

His gaze waged war with things far too deep and dangerous for just a kiss, and I was grateful when he shook his head, carefully masking whatever had happened.

His lips arranged into a self-satisfied smirk. “I take it that was your first?”

My cheeks heated.

I closed my eyes, already coming down from the torrential high he’d shown me.

His knuckles nudged my chin, startling my gaze to open.

“How many other firsts have you been denied?”

What…what do you mean?

Standing from his kneeling position, he sat on the bed and ran a hand over his mouth.

Something hot and needy sprang to life inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was tentative but strong, confused but focused.

Twisting to face me, he pressed his fingertip against my forehead. “Has someone made you wet just by talking to you? Telling you what they’re about to do? Giving explicit detail of what they like about your body, what you sound like, taste like, beg like?” He bowed closer, his baritone making me drunk. “Whispering how f*cking much they need to be inside you until you shatter the instant touch is given?”

Wow…

The shock and power of his voice almost made me forget my muteness. My head shifted slightly side to side in a very clear and none permitted no.

He exhaled heavily. “I take it that’s another first. Finally answering a question.” His teeth flashed in the low-lights. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

The strange thing was, I believed him. He hated Master A almost as much as I did. He wouldn’t run to him and spill whatever we’d just done. It wouldn’t benefit him in any way.

I stiffened as his finger dropped from my forehead, along my nose, to my lips. “How about this first?” His head lowered, his mouth landing on mine for another brief kiss. “Has anyone kissed you so f*cking hard you’re bruised when you come up for air? Has anyone kissed you for f*cking hours, tormenting you until you’re drenched for his cock?”

God, stop.

I pressed my lips together. A slight tenderness existed from his attentions.

This time, I fought the urge to reply, but he read the way my tongue licked the redness he’d graced me with.

I shivered as he swayed upward, removing the temptation of his kiss.

The talk of firsts and the indescribable way he spoke about them shoved aside my circumstances and made me wish.

Wish for a life to indulge in firsts. Rather than wish for death to end them.

His finger moved again, leaving my mouth to trail along my chin, neck, to my breasts. Cupping one, he murmured, “What about here, Pim? Has anyone sucked so f*cking hard on your nipple it swells and stings? Anyone bit until you cried for mercy or clamped toys on you, making you obey all commands?” His touch rolled my nipple, squeezing just a little.

No…

My breathing turned into a gasp as his fingertip followed the soft curve of my breast, to my ribcage, waist, finally tracing my belly button. His intense gaze hinted he wished to touch me between my legs, but he wouldn’t.

Caught up in the insane web we’d woven, I trembled as he said, “I wanted to give you another first. I wanted to make you come. I see now it would’ve been impossible for you because you’ve never felt true pleasure.”