I choked on his kiss, on his taste, as he fucked my mouth with his tongue and my ass with his finger. Tears sprang to my eyes as he took me, as he conquered me, as he made good on his promise to ruin me utterly.
He broke the kiss abruptly, both of us panting. His cock, rock hard and throbbing, nestled between my ass cheeks. I could feel it pulsing, twitching, as if eager to claim the last untouched part of me.
“Beg for it,” he rasped, eyes blazing into mine. “Beg your husband to take your ass, to make it his. Beg me to ruin you completely.”
His finger pumped faster, harder, stretching me, preparing me for his inevitable invasion. His other hand gripped the base of his cock, stroking it, teasing me with the promise of what's to come.
“Beg, wife,” he growled, voice rough and demanding. “Beg me to fucking claim you.”
My mind reeled, drowning in sensation, in the brutal, beautiful violation of my body and the dark, twisted pleasure itbrings. I knew I should resist, should fight against this, but... god help me, I couldn’t. I needed him to make me forget everything.
I opened my mouth, voice breaking on a sob. “It’s…. itchy….”
With a sound of dark, male satisfaction, Zagreus removed his finger, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. And then he was pushing forward, the thick head of his cock breaching my womanhood. “I won’t hurt you. But I’ll make this little hole mine.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Pain and Lies
I woke up to the ache. Not in my chest, though that too was restless, thudding uneven, guilty for having betrayed itself, but lower, where my body still remembered him. I was aware too of his hands mapping out my body last night, sore in hollow places where he pressed himself into me. I hated the way it felt honestly, and I hated myself more for craving the honesty of his body when his mouth gave me nothing.
The sheets smelt of him, and yet he was gone.
I pulled the robe over my shoulders as if it could hide the shame stitched into my flesh, cinched the belt so tight I almost wanted to choke myself with it. I told myself repeatedly that this was the last time, the last lapse, and yet the lie cracked before it formed. My mind repeated questions and lies I believed in.
But what more did I expect?
Of course he’d leave. I was not the woman he loved. Not the one he considered human. I was just his toy, a doll he could play with whenever he wanted. Toy with my emotions, and leave me to fend for myself.
Who was I to him? Why did he keep me close yet never let me touch the marrow of his truth when he knew everything about me? Why did I feel as though I was living in a borrowed body, a stranger’s shadow?
And the depth of my thoughts mocked me. My body hurt, but not half as much as the darkness where answers should have been.
I stepped into the corridor, adjusting the hooks of the long, partially sheer lingerie robe he probably left beside the bed, and found Elena polishing silver in the anteroom, her face serene as if she didn’t care what was happening to me in this house.
“Where is he?” My throat pained as words left my mouth.
Elena slowly looked up and let her eyes take me in. If she was surprised seeing all the red marks all over my visible skin, she didn’t show.
“Master had business. It was urgent, and he left before dawn.”
Business.
“Elena,” I pressed, folding my arms to keep them from trembling. “How long have you served him?”
Her eyes lifted. “Long enough to know he doesn’t forgive easily.”
“That isn’t what I asked,” I snapped, surprising even myself. Desperation slithered out of me. “What are you to him? Aconfidante? A keeper of his sins? You know him more than I do, don’t you? Tell me, Elena, who is he really?”
There was a pause, and she inhaled sharply. “I’m just his servant.”
The simplicity of her tone enraged me. “And before that? Before you became this shadow in his halls? Did he… did he love someone? Did someone leave him broken enough to carve that scar into his face?”
There was a tiniest flicker, and her hand froze on the silver tray. “The scar…” she said softly. “Came from his loved one.”
“Loved one?” My pulse jumped. “Who? Who was she?”
Elena’s lips tilted. “Sometimes, the truth is hidden not because it’s cruel, but because it is too tender to survive your touch. You don’t need to know everything, Mrs. Vitale. If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you himself.”
