Page 343 of Summer Heat
He draws a line down my legs, where they touch. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Not my breasts or my ass. It’s the seam of my legs, the line that keeps him out.
He wants a chess game. That’s why he bought me. That’s why he waited to take my virginity. I don’t know whether the other men wanted my body or my soul, but this man—he wants the challenge.
I look away because it’s scarier to play the game. Don’t fight him, oppose him. Make him desperate for more. That’s what Candy told me. I remember the knowing look in her eyes, the challenge. She knew how much harder this would be, to participate instead of fighting. To try to win knowing I’ll most likely lose.
I want to be the martyr, like he said. I need that, because it’s the only way I can hate him. Make me bleed. Make me cry. I’d despise him in pure righteous fury.
It’s the kindness I can’t trust.
His thumb turns my chin to face him. “Little virgin.”
“Gabriel.”
“Spread your legs.”
My heart pounds. “Make me.”
There’s that pawn again. He rubs his finger over it in a way that shouldn’t be sensual but is. Again and again, until the smooth curved head seems like a place on my body. Until every stroke of his thumb makes me clench. “Don’t you want this?” he murmurs.
It would be easy for him to push his hand between my legs, to spread them for me. I couldn’t stop him. I wouldn’t try. He wants me to give in, though. He wants to line up his pieces, prepared to strike. And then he wants me to move my queen into jeopardy, because he asks.
“No.”
He laughs softly, considering the rounded head of the pawn. “Such a small thing. But powerful. Don’t you think?”
His tongue swipes his thumb, which he uses on the pawn again. It glistens with his saliva. Then he does something obscene, something shocking—he puts the curved pawn against his lips. A kiss. The hint of a lick. “Open.”
My legs are trembling with the force of staying together. My inner thigh muscles are clenching and unclenching, spasming as I watch him suck the little head of the piece.
My breath catches. “I can’t—”
Every cell in my body is screaming for me to open my thighs, but it’s not just his thumb that will touch me. Not just his lips or his tongue. He’ll fuck me tonight. The promise is burning bright in his gaze.
“You have to, little virgin. It’s the only way you’ll feel better. Just give in.”
Move into jeopardy. Be captured. So simple and yet so hard to do. Surrender.
My fists clench in the sheets behind me. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, I open my legs to him. Two of his fingers lift the frill at the bottom of my nightgown, studying me with humiliating frankness.
“Such a beautiful pussy. Is it beautiful because no one has fucked it yet? Or is it fuckable because it’s so beautiful?”
I have to laugh. “Now that’s definitely the moonshine talking.”
His grin is dark and playful. Seductive. “The moonshine is a nice excuse to say what I’m thinking. God, little virgin. If you knew what I thought about, watching you in that gold dress, seeing you in those godforsaken yoga pants. Prancing around the house like you feel safe. I want to bring you down like a fucking gazelle in the Serengeti.”
My eyes feel wide, my breath faster. My legs spread a little farther apart.
“Keep your hands in the sheets,” he says softly.
“Okay,” I gasp.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s a fight inside me. The string, hold onto the string! But I want so badly to surrender. I need to
. My eyes close on a sigh. “Yes, sir.”
