I revealed myself to him.

I stood there, baring my pussy, letting him stare at the tidily shaved part of me that only two boys had ever seen, and I felt no self-consciousness. No shame. No anything.

I only felt heavy and hungry and swept up in the heat of it all.

I liked him staring.

His eyes made my clit pound and tiny fissures of release coil in my belly. I didn’t care about right or wrong. I only cared about how he made me feel.

And fuck…I felt high.

I’d never been so drunk on sex in my entire life.

“I’m going to charge double for you, my dangerous Jinx.”

I blinked, narrowing my eyes against the strange address. But he could call me whatever he damn well wanted if he had the antidote to my disease.

Shifting again, he unzipped his trousers and shoved down his black boxer-briefs. The angry veins of his cock pulsed with a similar relentless pursuit to come.

God, he’d fill every inch of me. He’d pulverize me. His thrusts would splinter me apart, fragmentize every thought, and demolish any memory of who I’d been.

But he didn’t invite me to replace his hand. He just kept staring, stroking himself with white-knuckled starvation.

Exquisitely slowly, he placed his other hand upright on the arm of the white couch. His fingers splayed upward like blades.

I licked my lips.

My belly flipped.

“Come closer.” His voice no longer resembled anything human. We’d both left that realm for dark, dripping places.

I obeyed without question.

I had no more questions. No more guilt or worry. I only had lust and pain.

Pain!

Please…help me.

“You’ve shown me yours, and I’ve shown you mine.” His gaze tore from my pussy, then landed on his upturned hand. “Now sit.”

I didn’t need any other commandments.

I wouldn’t play coy and ask what he meant.

I couldn’t play stupid and blush and deflect like any normal girl in this nightmarish situation.

I merely moved forward, positioned myself over his hand, then sank, of my own desperate volition, onto two of his upturned fingers.

Chapter Ten

THE SECOND HER HEAT sank and sucked my fingers inside her, she detonated.

She jerked and screamed, her hands clutching at my forearm, her legs spread over the arm of the couch, her hips rocking wildly on my hand.

My wrist fucking hurt with her full weight. She ground deeper onto my fingers as ripples of release squeezed her, over and over again.

Her head fell back as another orgasm tore her apart, swift on the heels of the first.

I let her use my fingers.

I watched her transcend from meek, trafficked slave to resplendent, gorgeous goddess.

And I suffered a similar thirst to come.

My fist worked up and down my cock, punishing with a pressure that guaranteed to bruise.

She was beyond drenched. So ready to be fucked; her pussy so swollen and slick that my two fingers weren’t enough for her.

She mewled and panted, sounding as desperate as she was.

More tears rained down her pretty cheeks, splashing onto my suit as she rode my fingers, seeking something bigger, brutal—becoming frustrated with the lack of girth and length.

How easy it would be to tell her to get up and sit on my cock.

How grateful she would be for me to bend her over and crash inside her.

How fucking stupid could I be to even entertain the idea?

I gave her my hand so she wouldn’t break entirely. My intention wasn’t to condemn her to despair and ruin. My goal was to set her free. To show her that here, on my shores, there was no such thing as frigidness. She needed to learn her body. Every woman I’d bought was required to become intimate, extremely intimate, with every crevice and hole, accepting their perfections and flaws as one exquisite package because the form they had was the gift that would grant their freedom, along with a thousand orgasms as payment.

She would learn to beg for another dose of elixir. She would drop to her knees and crawl for a single drop.

I grew harder at the image. My thighs trembled with an impending release.

This new girl needed to get the fuck out of my office.

I needed her gone.

I jerked as I fisted myself too hard.

“Get up,” I snarled, masturbating myself while she chased another detonation.

Her feral eyes met mine. She went to shake her head, but I dug my thumb into her clit with command. “Do it. Do it now.”

With a pitiful cry, she forced strength that she didn’t have into wobbly legs and gave me enough room to roll out the pain in my wrist. My fingers held threads of her musky desire. The slippery cords of her release sticky and damning.

With obscene willpower that’d taken my entire thirty-three years to master, I stood and faced her.

We both breathed hard, our exhales raspy and shallow. Her hand reached out to grab my cock. Her tongue wet her lips as she stood transfixed, hypnotised by the sight of my erection and the blatant invitation dazzling in her eyes.

It would be so fucking easy.

Too fucking easy to spin her, shove her, fuck her…hurt her beyond redemption. Beyond resale or profit.

I grabbed her wrist, stopping her short from touching me. “Don’t.”

She writhed on the spot, tearing her hand from my hold to rub against her over-sensitive flesh.

I’d achieved what I’d achieved by not giving in to my diabolical thirsts. I wouldn’t fail now. No matter that I couldn’t remember ever being this fucking turned on.

However, I wasn’t above torturing her as I splayed my fingers covered in her slimy cum and ensured she saw it glittering like cobwebs in the sunshine.

She moaned under her breath as I wrapped those fingers around myself, smearing her wetness all over me.

The pressure to come hinted I could give in right there. The tingle and sharpness just begged for permission—for one lapse of concentration to ejaculate. Every instinct bellowed to command this girl to her knees and come on her goddamn face.

I was tempted.

Sorely, fucking tempted.

I stepped toward her with the order on the tip of my tongue.

Her gaze forcibly left my fist-wrapped cock, crawling to my eyes and locking there. With trembling hands, she grabbed the hem of her jumper again, bringing it up over her hips, revealing her pussy.

Her clit was so swollen it glistened through the manicured hair—hair that could stay, as men who visited my island liked women, not little girls. The insides of her thighs were powdery with dried moisture where the flesh around her cunt was drenched.

She kept pulling her jumper up and up, exposing her perfectly formed breasts and tight, pink nipples. Her face disappeared for a second as she tugged the clothing over her head.

Her hair crackled as her eyes sought mine again, standing there stark fucking naked. Her ribs were visible as she panted. Her tallness gave her an ethereal quality even while muscle definition said she didn’t rely on false gifts such as good genes. She wasn’t lazy. She used her body for activities and adventures…and now she wanted me to use it in every dirty and demeaning way possible.

I grunted as the first spurt of my orgasm hit me by surprise.

She gasped as the pearly droplet shot from my cock and splashed against the floor.

On the precipice of giving in and milking every delicious clench, something flashed in her gaze.