“Why are you tying me?”
“Stay here till morning.” I plant my hands on either side of her face.
“Are you crazy?” she shouts.
I grip her chin. “Very. Very crazy.”
Her face flushes red with anger, her brows pulled tight, her chest rising and falling with sharp, furious breaths.I’ve never seen her this angry before. And I love her anger, just like I love every other part of her, except when she snatches control from me and drives me to make uncalculated decisions.
“You can tie me today, tomorrow… let’s say for four more nights. Then what? I’m marrying him. Do you understand? I will live with him.”
My jaw tightens from the pressure of my molars clenching, and she can see it. She sees the control slipping from me.
She smiles, a wicked, taunting smile. A smile that promises my ruin.
“And he will fuck me on the fifth night, dear broth—”
She jolts when my fist slams into the headboard, splintering wood where bone meets it. The bed shudders, my vision blurs with rage.
I seize her neck, squeezing just tight enough to remind her how easily I could break it. But she knows I won’t. She keeps glaring at me, unflinching.
“None of this will change the truth.”
I lower my face to hers, release her throat, and press my lips against the delicate column of her neck before sinking my teeth into her skin.
“Not speaking the truth will be safer for you,” I growl against her creamy skin, my words muffled as I nibble along her neck.
But the spinning in my head, the molten rush of fury in my veins, doesn’t ease, not when she pours oil into the fire by moaning. A sound I’ve never heard from her lips before. A sound that brands itself into my skull the instant it escapes her. I need more of it.
I suck harder, biting all over her neck, marking her, her moans filling the hollow inside me.
But it’s not enough.
I drag her loose T-shirt upward, baring the soft lace of a bra that fails miserably to hide the sharp peaks of her hardened nipples.
I push her bra down, exposing the exquisite roundness of her breasts. Holding the fabric in place, I take one of her nipples into my mouth. She arches up, offering me more, and I take it like the greedy bastard I am. A fucked-up, greedy bastard doing the very thing he shouldn’t.
I suck harder, pulling another moan from her lips that drowns out every rational thought. Her thighs press together, rubbing desperately to relieve the ache I’m fueling inside her.
I leave her swollen nipple with a wet pop and move down, forcing her legs apart before settling between them.
“Zoan,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“What am I to you, Dove?” My voice is sharp.
She licks her lips. “You know what you are to me.”
I grip the waistband of her shorts. “Brother?” The word is scorn, spat out with mockery.
“Umm… brother,” she breathes.
I look up at her face, rage and hunger burning through me, and then slide her shorts down in one rough pull—panties and all. She stares at me, her bare breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. The sight sears itself into me, impossible to erase. Not that I ever want to.
My eyes trail lower, slowly, until they land on the glistening pink of her pussy spread open before me. My lungs tighten. I should never have crossed this line.
And yet, I bend over her, press my tongue flat against her, and drag it in one long, claiming lick from her entrance to her clit. My eyes close as her intoxicating taste hits my tongue, thick and sweet like sin itself.
She cries out, her back arching violently off the mattress.
