Chapter 28 Chapter 28
Chapter 28 Chapter 28
~BRIENNE VONBERG~
"You must be out of your senses, if you think your touch has any effect on me." I finally snapped back at Allister, my voice sharp as a blade and slicing through the thick tension between us.
He rose slowly, eyes still locked on mine and with an infuriating mix of amusement and hunger.
"The past times at La Rosa Nero were basically just a result of my female hormones acting up." I said but I knew it was a blatant lie. Not even Myles could draw such reactions out of me when we fucked that Allister had managed to do. I knew damn well that for some reason, his touch ignited something feral in me, but admitting it would hand him the victory he craved, and I'd claw my way through hell before letting that happen.
He stepped closer, the heat radiating from his bare torso making the air between us feel charged, electric. "You mean when I fucked you with my gun or the toy, and you screamed in ecstasy?" His voice was a low taunt, each syllable dripping with the memory of those dark nights— the cold steel of the gun barrel thrusting deep into my pussy, stretching me until I gasped, and the toy's merciless intrusions grinding against my clit until my body convulsed in unwanted bliss. My core clenched at the recollection, a traitorous pulse of heat, but I forced my chin up, refusing to let him see the flush creeping up my neck.
"Every woman reacts under such circumstances."
I shot back, my arms crossing over my chest to hide the way my nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of his shirt, aching from the mere echo of his dominance. Those encounters had been violations, pure and simple. There was no consent, just his iron control forcing my pussy to gush around the intrusions, my screams tearing free as orgasms ripped through me against my will. I'd make him pay for every second of that betrayal, carve out his heart for the way he'd turned my body into his playground.
"I think you're a liar." He murmured, closing the distance until his chest nearly brushed mine, his scent invading my senses like a drug. "I think it was me who had an effect on you. I think you desire me just as much as you think you hate me." A bitter laugh bubbled up from my throat, raw and mocking, but it faltered under the intensity of his gaze, which stripped me bare without even touching.
"You're mad, Allister, but I'm glad you know one thing—I do hate you." I hissed, my eyes narrowing to slits, the venom in my words fueled by the firestorm of loathing and something darker twisting in my gut. "And trust me, you have no idea the lengths I'll go to make you suffer.' His lips curved into a mischievous smile, slow and wicked, as if my threats only stoked the flames in his eyes, making his pupils dilate with dark promise.
"For some reason, that does make my cock twitch." He said, the word hanging heavy, pulling my gaze downward despite my resolve to the prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants, the outline of his thick cock clear and throbbing. Heat surged through me, my pussy fluttering at the sight, slickness gathering between my thighs, but I jerked my eyes away, cursing the way my breath hitched. He noticed, of course he did, his soft chuckle vibrating through the space, a sound that sent unwelcome shivers racing over my skin.
"Let's test that theory, shall we?" He proposed, leaning in so close his lips nearly grazed my ear, his warm breath sending sparks skittering down my spine. "I'll let the autopsy files go and burn all traces of them if I touch you and you don't drown in ecstasy." Shock rippled through me. This insane bastard was wagering my freedom on my body's betrayal, willing to let go of the files he used to blackmail me to do his every bidding at La Rosa Nero.
"I'm not playing such a game." I retorted, though my voice wavered slightly, the temptation gnawing at me like a sweet poison. If i were to agree, it meant freedom to hunt him without his leverage over me, to plunge a knife into his throat unhindered but it was risky too. His eyes gleamed, reading every flicker of doubt on my face, the suspense of his offer hanging like a noose.
"Why? You claim you don't desire me, so prove it." He pressed, his tone coaxing, dangerous.
"Also, there would be no intrusion. No fucking. Just touches." He added, his voice a silken thread wrapping around my resolve. "If truly you hate me as you say, well then you shouldn't feel anything." Logic warred with instinct; hatred should make his fingers repulsive, his skin like acid on mine, turning every caress into revulsion. But deep down, fear coiled tight. I knew how my pussy wept for him in the past, knew how his mere proximity could flood me with need.
Backing down would also confirm his smug certainty, so I swallowed the dread rising in my throat. "Fine. But not now." I said, my pulse thundering, arousal already simmering low in my belly from our conversation alone. "Nighttime." I needed hours to fortify myself, to chase away the heat he'd kindled.
"As you wish." He replied, brushing past me with deliberate slowness, his arm grazing mine and igniting a trail of fire. "Also, I need a pajama. I'm sure you can afford more than a thousand. I hate the the feel of your clothes." I said while he strode away.
Alone, my body hummed with unresolved tension, the bet a ticking bomb. I had to prepare, purge the building ache before he could exploit it; touching myself would reset me, leave me numb to his advances. I limped to the bedroom, the wound in my leg a constant throb.
The pain didn't deter me; if anything, it fueled the fire, a familiar companion that sharpened every sensation during these private rituals. I sank onto the bed, propping my injured leg on pillows, the bandage pulling tight as I spread my thighs wide, the cool air teasing my already damp folds. My hand slipped under the shirt, fingers brushing the soft curls above my pussy, then dipping lower to circle my swollen clit, the touch sending a jolt through me.
I gasped, the nub throbbing under my fingertip as I rubbed in firm, insistent strokes, building the pressure steadily. The leg's ache flared with each subtle shift, a burning sting that blended seamlessly with the pleasure, making my hips roll involuntarily, pain and ecstasy twisting together, heightening everything until my breaths came in sharp pants. Two fingers plunged into my slick heat, stretching my walls as I curled them against that sensitive ridge inside, pumping rhythmically while my thumb ground against my clit.
Wet sounds filled the room and I tried to keep it as quiet as possible so he wouldn't hear, my pussy clenching greedily around my digits, juices coating my hand as tension coiled tighter in my core. The wound's fire licked up my thigh, syncing with the building orgasm, turning discomfort into a delicious edge that made me moan low and throaty. I fucked myself harder, imagining control, vengeance— not him— but his image intruded, the bulge in his pants, and I chased it away with faster thrusts, my free hand pinching my nipple through the fabric to amplify the rush.
Sweat slicked my skin, body arching as the climax crested, crashing over me in waves that had me crying out, pussy spasming wildly, flooding my fingers with hot release. Tremors wracked me, the afterglow leaving me boneless, and convinced I'd drained the vulnerability. Now, his touches would slide off me like water.