His finger found her clit.
The small, sensitive nub, hidden beneath its hood, was found. His fingertip, rough and calloused, pressed against it. The contact was direct. The 'something-is-touching-the-most-sensitive-part-of-my-body' contact that sent a jolt through her system.
"You see," Viktor said. His voice was in her ear. The 'I-am-talking-to-you-while-touching-your-clit' tone. "You are a fat little thing, aren't you? Hairy pussy. Thick thighs. The kind of body that needs a good fuck."
The words were vulgar. Degrading. The 'I-am-describing-your-body-in-the-most-crude-terms-possible' language that was designed to humiliate. To break. To make her feel small and dirty and 'wrong.'
"Please don't say that," Myra whispered. The tears fell. Her violet eyes, squeezed shut, leaked. "Please."
