Page 172 of Adam
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice gruff. “Not until I’m done with you.”
My pulse slams in my ears. I should be terrified.Maybe I am.But the part of me that wants to run is smaller now. Under the fear, there’s this other thing pulsing. This ache that twists in my gut and coils between my legs; this sick, twisted need to see just how far he’ll go.
I want him to ruin me.
To make me feel exactly how dangerous he is.
Suddenly he sinks his teeth into my collarbone, way harder than before.
“Ouch!”
The pain hits sharp and fast, and I jolt, but fuck, it shoots straight between my legs. I try to scream, but it’s swallowed by the gag.
He doesn’t stop. He bites again, right next to the first spot, harder this time, a low sound rumbling in his throat.
“Ah, it hurts!”
I feel the skin break. He pulls back, and there’s blood on his mouth.
My eyes widen.Did he bite me that hard?
He spits on the wound, lets it mix with our blood, then rubs it in with his fingers, smearing it on me. He drags the mess down between my breasts.
“Fucking mine.”
He pulls back and rises onto his knees, looming over me.
“You’ve got no idea what it’s like, holding this in. Pretending I’m something soft. Something sane,” he mutters.
“Adam,” I mutter through the garment.
“Wrong name,” he growls. “You’re stuck with me tonight.”
My breath snags in my throat, and my heart hammers against my ribs with a brutal rhythm.
He spits on my pussy.
Then he drives his tongue on it and licks the length of it, trying to devour the slick and bloodied mess between my legs with obscene groans that vibrate into my core.
My legs shake. I try to twist away, but his hands slam my hips back into place.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he pants against me.
He grips my hips, yanks me around, and shoves me down onto all fours.
He stands up and fists his cock with his bloodied hand, jerking it once, twice.
Oh, God, I’m ready …
Am I?
He leans in, his cock dragging over my soaked slit, teasing and taunting, slick with how badly I need him. His hand clamps around my throat, firm enough to make my pulse stutter.
“Say my name.”
My mind’s wrecked—fogged from everything he’s done to me. I don’t know if it’s a trap. I don’t know if I’m allowed to speak, but it slips out anyway.
“Bane.”
