35. Breaking Her Down

CHAPTER 35

Breaking Her Down

ILEANA

His mouth crashes against mine, stealing my breath and crashing through every rule I've ever lived by. Years of staying hidden, of obeying my father’s demand to remain unseen, shatter beneath the weight of Wren’s kiss. His fingers knot in my hair, pulling tight, keeping me exactly where he wants me. The other hand—God, his other hand—continues its devastating exploration of my breast, the pressure almost unbearable.

I should push him away. Scream. Anything but arch into his touch like I’m doing now.

But I can't stop.

The soft click of his camera punctuates every move he makes, every kiss he steals, every stroke of his fingers. Each sound is a mark of ownership, a declaration that this moment, this piece of me, belongs to him.

"That's it," he breathes against my mouth. "Show me how much you want this. How much you need it."

The haze in my mind clears just enough for his words to sink in. To remind me of who he is. Of what he’s doing. How deeply he’s torn through every safeguard I thought I had, stripped away every protection. My head twists, trying to break away from his hold.

“No.” His grip tightens, his control absolute. The single word carries a command to it that makes me shudder. “No more hiding. No more pretending you don’t feel this.” His lips trail down to my neck, hot and insistent .

"I don't?—"

“Liar.” He catches my lower lip between his teeth, a teasing nip that sends a shock through me, then soothes it with his tongue. “You can’t lie to me, pretty Ballerina. I see it. The way you respond to my touch, the little sounds you try to hide ..."

As if he’s proving his point, his finger circles my nipple, drawing a gasp that I can’t swallow down in time. My face burns, mortified by the noise I make.

Does he know no one has ever touched me like that? Seen me like this? Or is that why he’s so relentless?

"I can't?—"

“Can’t? Or won’t?” His lips close over my nipple, sucking gently, and it’s like a lightning strike between my legs. I choke on a moan, and he laughs softly, lifting his head. “Don’t care about Daddy’s rules when my mouth is on you, do you?”

The mention of my father sends ice through my veins. The reality of what I’m doing—how I’m betraying everything I was taught—crashes over me.

What would he think if he knew what was happening in my bedroom right now? What would he do if he saw this?

Wren pauses, eyes narrowing as though he can read my thoughts, and his fingers flex in my hair. I reach to pull my top down, to cover myself, but his hand clamps around my wrist, stopping me.

“Oh no, you don’t.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I want you exactly like this.”

“Someone could walk past and see?—”

“That’s the point.” His lips curl in a dark smile as he raises the camera again. “Look how beautiful you are.” The soft click makes me flinch. “When you have nothing left to hide behind. Naked. Stunning. Mine.”

Heat crawls up my neck, my nipples tightening painfully under his stare. My gaze darts toward the window, toward the possibility of someone— anyone —catching me like this.

“You’re coming with me.” His eyes lock on mine, holding me captive. “And you’re going to stay exactly like this until I decide otherwise.”

“No—” The protest falls flat as he pinches my nipple, the pain blooming into pleasure, and I can’t stop the gasp that escapes.

“No?” He angles the camera screen toward me, forcing me to look. There I am—sprawled across my bed, shirt pushed up, eyes dark with desire, lips parted.

A stranger wearing my face. A girl I don’t recognize.

“Should I send this to Daddy? Let him see how his perfect little girl falls apart for me?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ohhh, don’t dare me, Ileana.” His fingers thread into my hair again, holding me still as he takes another picture. “One text, and they’d all know. Everyone would see exactly what you become in my hands.” His mouth presses against my ear. “How desperate you are for my touch.”

My pulse is a drumbeat against my ribs, the darkness in his eyes leaving no doubt—he would do it. He’d ruin me without hesitation. The certainty terrifies me as much as being at his mercy turns me on.

“Or maybe …” His hand slides lower, fingers teasing just beneath the waistband of my shorts. “Maybe I should just wake Daddy up. Let him find you like this. Let him watch what I do to you.”

“Stop—”

“That’s not what your body’s saying.” His fingers move lower, feather-light and maddening. “Every inch of you is begging for more, even while you pretend to resist. I bet if I touched you now, you’d come before I even got my fingers inside you.”

Shame scorches through me, but it can’t drown out the truth. He’s right. Even now, I can’t stop the need he’s building inside me.

“You’re coming with me.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “You’ll let me see you. Touch you. Take you apart.” His mouth finds my nipple again, tongue flicking over it, sending sparks through my entire body. “You’re going to let me play with you until there’s nothing left but this.”

He steps back, and the air chills my skin, goosebumps rising. I move to cover myself, but his eyes narrow.

“I said don’t.” The command in his voice freezes me. “You try to hide, and these photos go straight to Daddy. Every last one.”

The threat shouldn’t send warmth pooling low in my stomach, shouldn’t make my pulse quicken, but it does. And I hate myself for it.

“Stand up.”

My legs are shaking as I slide off the bed, the camera capturing every shaky movement, every second of my shame.

“Beautiful.” He circles me, eyes devouring every inch of skin I can’t hide. “Turn for me.”

I swallow, slowly turning, my skin heating under his scrutiny.

“Hold there. Look at me.”

The shutter clicks again, and the sound is deafening. I’m too aware of my bare skin, the cool air drawing my nipples even tighter.

“Please, Wren.” I don’t know what I’m begging for anymore. To cover myself? To feel his hands on me again? To end this, or for it never to stop?

“No more hiding.” He catches my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. “No more pretending.” His thumb pushes between my lips.

Everything feels twisted, wrong, like he’s uncovering pieces of me I never knew existed.

“Every second you hesitate is another second closer to Daddy seeing you like this.”

The words bind me, and I move. The window opens, and cool night air washes over my skin, making everything feel unreal—except the heat of Wren’s body pressing into my back as I climb through.

His arm wraps around my waist, fingers sliding up to cup my breast again, squeezing, tugging at my nipple. The cold air, the open space, the knowledge that anyone could see us sends a pulse of heat between my legs. The thought should terrify me—instead, it’s like a spark catching dry kindling, burning hotter.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Stop fighting what you need. I like it when you’re a good girl for me.”

And God help me, I want to be good for him.