Free Broken Glass by Arianne Richmonde Page A

he knew what he was doing.
    “No. Never. Never felt the need before. But I have to have you, Janie. All of you. Every last inch. This is a treasure chest and I want to be the first, and last, to open it up.”
    The thought that he hadn’t done this with anyone else made my heart swell with happiness. I had conquered him. She hadn’t elicited this level of desire. This filthy, bad, dirty-driven man was mine .
    “How do you know you’re the first?” I teased.
    “Because I’m the only one who’s got the right key,” he said with confidence, his voice gruff.
    He eased himself in a fraction more.
    “Okay?” he asked. I could, for a second, feel a sharp stab, but soon it dulled and I wanted more. More of Daniel Glass. More of his cutting pain.
    “Don’t stop,” I said. He desired all of me? The feeling was mutual.
    “ Have to have you, Janie. Every . . . —” he thrust in deeper—“Last . . . ”—deeper still—“Millimeter.” He punctuated each word with his movements, pushing in slowly—a feeling so alien, I couldn’t even place it. Not seeing his face was unnerving. All I knew, though, was I didn’t want him to stop. He was gripping my buttocks like they belonged to him, his cock delving into my secret place, deeper, more taboo, on every thrust. But then, as if by osmosis, knowing what my body needed, Daniel brought his hand to my clit and began to rub, cupping my entire mound with the strength of his whole palm, draping over and around me like a magic glove, pressing all the right buttons.
    I entered into a new realm. A tunnel of flashing lights. But the pleasure . . . dark. Forbidden.
    “Oh . . . fuck,” I moaned.
    Each thrust was coupled with his hand gripping my core, building, building into a monument of painful gratification. Yes, it hurt back there, I couldn’t deny it. But in a good way . . .
    Pain. And pleasure. Pleasure. And pain.
    Opposites melding into one whole.
    “This. Hot. Little. Ass. Is. Going. To. Make. Me. Fucking well detonate!” Daniel was trailing kisses all over my back, lashing his tongue on my flesh, that skillful hand still cupping me tight, my clit rippling in a delicious, delirious world of its own.
    “I’m coming,” I screamed out, hoping the limo was soundproof and, just after I said it, I could feel Daniel’s fountain of wet heat shoot into me, literally a millisecond after I fell to pieces with the strangest, yet most powerful orgasm of my life.
    Perfect timing, once again.

6
    “Y OU SURPASSED YOURSELF, Miss Cole,” Daniel said, a trace of a smile passing across his face.
    We were back at the apartment of his swanky hotel that had floor to ceiling windows, which looked out to the colorful Vegas lights and to the horizon beyond. He had carried me here—both of us in a semi-state of undress—riding the elevator to his penthouse, as he carried my worn body in his arms, across the threshold, straight to the bathroom where I was now, soaking gloriously in a white marble hot tub. He’d ordered room service, earlier, watching me as I ate a bowl of pasta while in the bath. I now felt exhausted, spent, both physically and mentally. He’d pushed my limits. And I’d let him.
    I didn’t reply to his comment. He had just gotten out of the shower and, leaning over me with his dripping wet hair, planted a chaste kiss on my forehead. He knew better than to tamper further with my boundaries and he could, perhaps, gauge my silent mood. There was a part of me that felt angry with him, as if I had given him a little piece of my soul that he might take and store in a dark place, never to return it. As if he were a vampire drinking my blood. He’d stolen something from me tonight.
    “It was a one-off,” I replied in a quiet voice.
    “That’s fine, baby. Just great to know we have that bond and belong to each other now. We melded in a very meaningful way, don’t underestimate the significance of what we did.”
    Melded. That was the very word I had