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inner thigh, sliding up and toward my center…
    My legs fell open of their own accord. Even though I knew I shouldn’t allow this, even though I knew Julian or the Baron or—God forbid—Martjin van der Sant could walk into this room at any moment…
    “Whom do you belong to, Mary Margaret?” Silas asked.
    Now his fingers were there , right there, the rough pads seeking out my entrance, and then he shoved two of them harshly inside. He was right, it wasn’t about pleasure, it was about possession, except the very nature of such a possessive act was inducing something very, very close to pleasure inside me. My legs widened as far as my skirt would allow, and I was now at the very edge of the chair, shamelessly rocking against his hand. Viola had gotten me off last night, but this is what I’d really wanted. Silas. His flesh, his fingers, his fury, as he jabbed his fingers in and out. It hurt so good, my toes curling from the sharp discomfort twined with intense pleasure.
    “I said, whom do you belong to ?” His voice was hoarse now, and I knew without looking that he was hard.
    Just that thought made my mouth water. “You,” I confessed. “I belong to you.”
    “Precisely so, Mary Margaret. And my Molly doesn’t get to talk about herself like that. My Molly knows that she’s not tainted, she knows that only that monster is to blame. My Molly knows that she belongs wholly and entirely to my love and that she’s worthy of every single second of it, and not despite of what happened. Because it’s part of your history and part of you, and I love every single part of you, wounded or otherwise.”
    He’d lied, because now his thumb was rubbing hard against my clit, and he was going to make me come, even though it was forbidden and wrong and dangerous, he was still going to make me come.
    “I want you to feel it all right now. All the shame and all the fear and all the hate, and I want you to let it all go. Give it to me, give yourself to me, and I will carry it all for you. For the rest of eternity or even just for a few minutes. Give it to me.”
    Fire licked everywhere, at the soles of my feet and the insides of my palms and up my neck, but most of all at my core, which burned and flamed at his rough, demanding touch. He shifted, so that he had one foot planted on the floor, while the other knee stayed planted where it was, and his new stance exposed exactly how hard he was, how ready, and I could even see the wet spot on his trousers where he’d started leaking precum. I wished he would say fuck the contract and pull his cock out and shove it inside me. I wished he would throw me down and rut into me, press my face into the floor and fuck me until I forgot everything but him, him and his gigantic, perfect dick.
    He angled his fingers so that he was rubbing against that one spot inside, and I couldn’t take it anymore. My nipples tightened and my belly tightened and my cunt tightened—all of my senses and sensations shrinking to the one point where his touch met my body.
    “Oh God,” I moaned, my head falling back. “I’m going to…Oh God, Silas…”
    “Yes,” he groaned. “Let me have it. Let me feel it.”
    And there it was, all of it, the shame and the fear and the shredded sense of self-worth. It hovered in me as my orgasm hovered just out of reach, and then my orgasm crashed into me, fusing everything into white-hot waves of release. It ripped through my body, out of me and back into me, sending me soaring and falling at the same time; my only tether to reality was Silas’s other hand still gripping mine, squeezing hard as I clenched and pulsed around his fingers and rode his hand chasing after every single flutter.
    And when I opened my eyes to see Silas staring at me with his face so serious, so stern—eyes hungry and still a little angry—more shudders rippled through me.
    He was right. I belonged to him.
    He still clasped my hand as he slid his fingers out of me and raised them to his