“You’re going to laugh for me again, Ellie,” I say, my voice a low growl. “You’re going to scream for me. You’re going to forget that bitch’s name and every moment you’ve spent in this prison. The only thing you’re going to feel is me.”
I capture her mouth again, my hands making quick work of the simple dress she wears. I peel the fabric away, baring her to me. It seems as if my naughty girl hasn’t worn a bra. Fuck.
My gaze sweeps over her, over the smooth skin of her stomach, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She’s perfect.
Mine.
My mouth leaves hers, trailing a hot, wet path down her neck, my teeth scraping against her pulse point. She arches into me, a soft moan escaping her lips. I love those sounds. I collect them, hoard them, replay them in my mind all the fucking time.
My hands are everywhere, stroking, caressing, possessively marking every inch of her. I cup her breasts, my thumbs stroking her nipples.
“Zane, please,” she begs, her voice breathy.
I smirk, loving how she unravels for me. But I'm not rushing this. I want her on the edge, teetering, begging for release that only I control. I slide one hand down her stomach, dipping into her pink panties, fingers finding her already wet folds. She moans as I stroke her clit, slow circles that make her hips buck.
I finger her pussy, two digits sliding in deep, curling to hit that spot that makes her cry out. She's soaking, clenching around me, but I pull back just as her breaths quicken, her body tensing toward climax.
“Not yet,princesa. You come when I say.”
She whines in frustration, but her eyes burn with need—need that's all for me.
God, she’s fucking perfection.
I push her onto the bed, spreading her thighs wide. The panties strain, and I don’t hesitate to rip the flimsy material in half, throwing the strips aside.
“You won’t be needing those,” I say, flashing her a mischievous grin.
My cock strains against my pants, aching, but I ignore it. This is about her suffering sweetly for me first.
Leaning down, I lick her inner thigh, teasing closer to her core without touching. She writhes, her hands fisting the sheets.
“Zane… I need you.”
I hover my mouth over her pussy, breath hot against her slick skin.
“Tell me who owns this,” I demand.
“You do,” she gasps. “You and the others.”
Fuck, yes, we do.
Satisfied, I finally lap at her, my tongue flat and firm against her clit. She bucks up, and I hold her hips down, sucking gently, then flicking fast. Her moans fill the room, her body coilingtight. I feel her thighs quiver, her pussy fluttering—so close. She’s so fucking close, and I won’t let her fall over the edge.
Not yet.
I stop, pulling away completely, a wicked grin curling up my lips. “No coming without permission,princesa. You're mine to torment.”
Tears of frustration glisten in her eyes, but she nods, submissive and obsessed with pleasing me as much as I am with her.
I stand, pulling my shirt over my head.
Ellie gasps, the noise soft and laced with surprise, and I have to bite down on my laughter.
“You like this?” I ask, tossing my shirt aside. I bring a hand to my chest, where Ellie’s name has been tattooed directly over my heart. “I got this shortly before we arrived here.”
“Zane…” Her eyes glisten with emotion.
“You own me,princesa,” I tell her, for once not smiling. I want her to see how dead fucking serious I am. “You own every piece of me. It seems only fair that I put your name on my skin.”