Yet when he applied a little more pressure, I mewled involuntarily. I closed my eyes as his one hand caressed my breast and rubbed circles on my clitoris with the other. It felt electric, how my body was burning up with his every single touch.
“Don’t close your eyes, Dolcezza. Watch as I make you come on my fingers, my tongue and my cock.”
I had no choice but to open my eyes. My body was already corrupted, so it didn’t matter if I enjoyed this or not. I was breathing rapidly and looked into his eyes.
The bastard smirked, and while looking into my eyes, he covered my core with his hand, slowly putting a finger in. My body jerked, my back arched, and I reached for anything to hold when he pushed deeper, until I was gasping for air.
“You’re tight. So fucking tight.”
I bit on my lips, preventing anything from slipping out. He could use me however he saw fit, but he would never have my voice, not until I died. That’s all he’d get.
But how did I stop the tremors? When his hand on my breast kneaded them, I shivered as he leaned and peppered kisses on the sensitive skin before biting it and sucking on it.
I instinctively tilted my head to the side, still biting on my lips as he nibbled down on the erect nipple, and I gasped.
I didn’t know I was this sensitive when it came to sex. Adrian and I had been with each other for four years, yet I’d never felt this way with him. But the way Zagreus feasted on my life essence as if needing to feel it throb beneath his mouth.
I released a shattered breath when his middle finger joined the index one inside me. “You’re wild, for someone who hates me.”
I held onto the wrist of his hand, but it was not enough to stop him. “Just… fuck me already.”
I gasped as he put more pressure and scoffed. “I decide how to play, not you, wife. I’ll fuck you when I want.” He was merely fingering me that slowly, and yet I felt like I’d explode. I’d never been so… wanton for male attention, had I?
“Zagreus…” I breathed out.
“Yes, Dolcezza.”
“Please…”
I didn’t know what I was pleading for, for his fingers to penetrate deeper and give me an orgasm or for his actions to stop. The pressure in my stomach was building with each stroke, and I couldn’t rationalise with myself anymore. Something twisted in me, and I was suddenly convulsing all over him. Like I’d just jumped from a cliff with no ground.
When I came down from high, I realised what I had just done and shame bubbled within me. Refusing to look at his grinning face, I panted heavily, trying to catch my breath. But he had other plans; he didn’t let me rest. Instead, I was being flipped on my stomach. A gasp left my lips before his arm was wrapped around my mid-section, and my buttocks was lifted in the air.
I was frozen in place, time and everything in between. He looked calm now, but I knew he was still mad about me mentioning Adrian. At least now I knew what ticked him off. And that was a mention of my dead lover. I stared at the metal headboard with its exotic golden motifs, refusing to look at him. Because the more I looked at him, the deeper the darkness sucked me in. I couldn’t figure him out, not when he wore his expression with the same ease as he wore his dark suit.
“Part your thighs.” He stroked my hair gently.
I slowly repositioned my knees, and the cold air hit my womanhood. I was sensitive there, just after an orgasm, after I came down from high, but the brute hadn’t let me breathe yet.
“That’s my Dolcezza.”
My muscles locked whenever he called me that, and I had no idea whether it was as an endearment or a mocking way to remind me of my misery. Just like most things he did to me, whether he inflicted pain or his dark claim whenever I refused him.
I wondered how many women had become his target. I couldn’t be the only one. And I most definitely couldn’t be the last either. Men like him loved control, like breathing air. They dwelled in it. Cruel and calloused. Brutal and sadistic. Perverted, too, because he loved seeing me in pain. He wore that quiet,controlled mask like it could hide the monster underneath, but I saw him for what he was… a depraved, perverted fucker who lived to hurt, to take, to own as he saw fit. Twisting cruelty into mercy, making suffering feel like a gift, and now he stood behind me, ready to take another piece of me for his sick pleasure.
Cruel hands parted my buttocks before I felt a gust of wind… or hot breath. My body jerked, and I quickly tried to pull away, only to be held captive by him as his rough hands gripped my waist. “Move, and I’ll tie you up.”
“What… what are you doing?!”
“What does it look like, little wife? Of course, I wanna enjoy your cunt while it's dripping for me.”
“No, it's…” Dirty, disgusting and deviant behaviour. But before I could say anything, his mouth was on me, between my legs, warm tongue penetrating me as his thumb moved to my bundle of nerves. And a strange sensation bubbled inside me as I stuffed my face into my sheets, refusing to moan for him.
Shit. It felt… devastatingly…good. Why?
He had taken everything from me, my freedom, my dignity and the man I loved. Snatched him from my arms, ripped his soul from this world like it meant nothing, and then he turned to me, wiped the blood from his blade like it was an afterthought and told me I was his.
His wife. His property. His plaything.
