His To Use: Seduced By The Incubus

9: Made To Beg

ZYRELLA

My heart almost jumps out of my chest at his words. But before I can even process, Matt returns with a tall woman trailing behind him... sleek black hair, tape around her neck, arms full of fabrics and boxes. A Fashionista, that was fast.

“Sir, this is Madam Clarisse,” Matt announces.

She doesn’t waste time. Her eyes sweep over me, like she’s measuring me from the inside out. “Red hair,” she says simply, then snaps her fingers. Two assistants I hadn’t noticed walk in with racks of glittering gowns.

I blink, stunned. “Wait… this is for me?”

Selvik leans back on the couch, smirking. “Of course it’s for you, doll. You’re on my arm tonight. You won’t embarrass me in rags.”

Heat creeps up my neck. Embarrass him? My hands curl, but I don’t argue. Clarisse is already circling me, and pulling at my waist.

Minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror in a gown that feels like liquid on my skin... deep emerald, hugging every curve, backless, with a slit running dangerously high up my thigh. My hair has been twisted and pinned, loose curls brushing my bare shoulders. Even I don’t recognize myself.

When I step out, Selvik’s gaze snaps to me. For once, he closes his laptop. His eyes drag from the top of my head, down my neckline, over the slit, lingering far too long.

“Perfect,” he says finally, his voice low, thick. “Mine.”

The word makes my stomach twist.

An hour later, we’re in another sleek black car, but this time it takes us to a towering buildings of glass and steel. The car stops in front of a place so luxurious I feel like I shouldn’t even breathe here. Crystal lights shimmer from the ceiling, gold letters spell out the name of the restaurant, and men in tuxedos bow as Selvik steps out.

He doesn’t even look around; he’s used to this. I, on the other hand, feel small, swallowed by all this wealth. He offers his hand, and I take it because my knees are too weak not to. His grip is firm, possessive, guiding me past the staring eyes at the entrance.

Inside, the place smells of roses and wine. Chandeliers glimmer, violins hum softly in the background. He leads me to a private table by the window, overlooking the entire city lit up beneath us.

I sit down carefully, my gown brushing against my legs, and watch as he orders without looking at the menu. Expensive wine, rare dishes I’ve never even heard of.

Then his eyes are on me again. “You’ve never been in a place like this, have you, doll?”

I shake my head slowly, my lips parting but no sound coming out.

He smirks, pouring wine into my glass. “Good. Remember this night. Because when you’re with me, this is the floor, not the ceiling.”

My chest tightens. He raises his glass, watching me with that dark, unreadable stare.

“To you,” he says softly, “and to the wild nights ahead.”

When our glasses clink, I swear my heart stops.

I take a sip from the glass, the wine burning warm as it slides down my throat. I don’t even know what it costs, but I know I can’t afford it in two lifetimes.

Selvik hasn’t taken his eyes off me, not for once. His hand is resting lazily on the table, the sleeve of his dark suit pushed back just enough for me to see the veins on his wrist, the faint twitch of his fingers.

“You’re quiet,” he says, “Intimidated?”

I shake my head, but my hand trembles when I put the glass back down.

He smirks. “Liar.”

The waiter arrives, setting plates down. I don’t even recognize half of what’s in front of me. Thin slices of meat, the bread that smells like heaven, little bowls of sauces.

Selvik cuts into his meal like he’s done this a thousand times, casual, and slow. I try to mimic him, but my hands aren’t steady. His gaze flickers down, catching my struggle, and that smirk deepens.

“Careful, doll. You’ll stab yourself before you even taste it.”

Heat rushes to my face, I felt embarrassed. But I am trying not to show it.

But then, under the table, I feel it... the lightest brush against my ankle.

I freeze.

Selvik doesn’t stop eating, doesn’t even look at me. But his foot is tracing up my leg, slow, and deliberate. The silk slit of my gown makes it too easy. His shoe slides higher, nudging my calf, making my breath hitch.

My fork clatters against the plate.

He finally glances at me, calm, with his eyes glinting. “Problem?”

I shake my head quickly, too fast. My chest is tight, my thighs pressing together under the table. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

“Good,” he says, his voice dropping lower dangerously. “Because I’d hate for you to embarrass me in a place like this.”

The pressure of his foot retreats, leaving my skin burning where he touched. My heart is racing, but I can’t look away from him.

“Eat,” he commands softly.

**************

By the time the car pulled through the mansion gates again, I was stuffed, tipsy. I was still replaying his legs on my thigh.

Thank goodness we are back Ag the mansion.

“I’ll tell Matt to show me to my room.” I said.

He stopped walking, and turned slow to me. “No need, doll. You’ll be sharing my room throughout our stay here in Northern Wing.”

I froze, my jaw falling open. “Excuse me? Since when...”

He cut me off with a low voice, but dark enough. “Since you accepted me burying my cọ́ck inside your honeypọ́t. You don’t get to choose anymore.”

My mouth snapped shut, anger boiling in my chest, but my legs still moved when he strode forward. I followed, muttering every curse I could think of under my breath. He muttered too, something about me being too damn mouthy, and somehow that made me even angrier.

His room was massive, windows opening straight out to a pool glowing blue under the night sky. He tossed a pair of swim trunks on the bed. “Wear them. We’re going for a swim before sleep.”

I blinked. “A swim? At midnight?”

“Obey, doll.” His shirt was already off, his body carved in hard shadows, and then he was gone.

I yanked on the trunks, grumbling, and padded outside. He was already in the pool, his blonde hair slicked back, a glass of wine balanced between his fingers like he owned the world. He probably did, the way he leaned against the pool’s edge, relaxed, arrogant, my stomach knotted again.

“Get in.” His voice carried like a command.

The water stung cold against my skin as I slipped in, biting my lip. He extended his hand, and even though my pride screamed no, I gave him mine. His grip was firm, dragging me closer.

“How are we ending the night, doll?” he murmured, his hand sliding down my spine. Before I could sass back, I felt his nimble fingers tugged behind my back, and my bikini top floated away.

I gasped, as my arms shooting to cover my bọ́obs, but his eyes had already claimed me.

“Look at those nìpples of yours, doll,” he said with a husky voice, proud, like he owned every inch of me.

I don’t even know what came over me. One second I was clutching my bọ́ọ́bs, trying to shield myself, the next… my arms felt heavy, useless. It was like something inside me whispered not to hide my nakedness from him.

Then his hands found my waist, dragging me closer until our bodies brushed beneath the water. He lowered his head, and his lips grazing the curve of my neck. The moment his mouth touched me, I moaned... loud, unplanned. My knees went weak, so weak my arms shot around his bare back just to hold myself up. I regretted it instantly, giving him that satisfaction, but it was too late. He already felt the shiver running through me.

“Selvik…” My voice cracked.

He ignored it, his lips moving lower, down the hollow of my throat, across my chest, until his mouth closed over my breást. I gasped, arching up against him. When his tongue flicked across my hardened nìpple, I lost it, a raw moan slipping past my lips as my fingers tangled in his wet hair. My body betrayed me, pressing against his face, desperate.

And the way he did it... slow, claiming, savoring, made it worse. His hand slid up to cup my other brẹ̀ast, squeezing gently, as his fingers teasing it, while his mouth sucked harder on the other. The heat in my stomach coiled tight, each lick sending pleasure through me, each graze of his teeth making me tremble.

My breath came in short, frantic gasps. My nails dug into his scalp. My head tilted back on its own. Every bit of me screamed that I shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t give in, but the pleasure was too much. I wanted to push him away, but all I did was pull him closer.

Then he stopped just like that. He pulled back, water dripping from his lips, his dark eyes locking on mine. My chest heaved, brẹ̀asts bare, nìpples aching, and skin hot with need.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice sounding rough, and mocking. “Enjoying every bit of what I do to your body. And yet you still don’t want to admit you want this.”

I bit my lip, breathing hard, furious that he was right.

“I won’t go on…” His tone turned cruel, deliberate.

My heart stumbled. “What?”

“I said I won’t. Not unless you beg me to.”

“You’re insane.” I snapped the words, my chest rising fast, my pride screaming louder than the ache between my thighs.

“Alright.” He shrugged, releasing me, already moving toward the pool’s edge like he meant it. “Have it your way.”

Panic ripped through me before I could think. The cold rushed in where his heat had been. My voice betrayed me, breaking, desperate.

“P-please…”

The word echoed in the quiet night. My eyes widened as I realized I said it, too late to take it back.