Chapter 16: Susanna

I’ve been kissed many times before. By drunk men who salivated in my mouth and cut my lip. By pedophiles whose fantasies were to ruin a little girl in ways they could never ruin their wives. Or daughters. By Jaxon, who only kissed me after each whipping. I associate the action with pain, disgust. I despise it.

Yet, my legs shake.

It starts like roaring, turbulent waves. Like an avalanche, rumbling in fury and bringing everything down in its path. Zefiro’s kiss is hostile, angry, hateful even. Like he despises me but can’t stay away, and for that, he is punishing me.

Hot. I feel hot in all the wrong places. The angry glide of his tongue against mine mimics the movement I’d like not to think of while he holds me, but I can’t help it. It’s hard not to think of how his tongue would feel against my folds.

My core tightens and I clench, twice. Hell, no.

I push Zefiro off. But I might as well have hit an immoveable wall. Struggling against him does not