My traitorous body goes hot and tight at his praise. It’s sick and twisted, but bolts of pleasure shoot straight between my legs. His display of dominance shuts off every neurotic thoughtin my brain. For the first time since the masquerade, my mind is beautifully, simply blank.
“Yeah, fuck, take me deep. Just like that.”
Evidence of my submission delights him further, until he’s thrusting to meet every downstroke, his fingers cupping my cheeks to smear through salt and paint me in humiliation. His eyes glaze over, and he fists his hands in my hair as he drives deeper, heedless of my struggling sounds.
The worst part isn’t the violation. It’s the satisfaction that burns in my chest as I watch him succumb to me. That I can find some enjoyment from this degradation is devastating to the point that when he fills my mouth with his thick, salty spend, I’m still crying. It hollows out my chest, threatens to choke me as I struggle against the quakes. It’s worse than the night we spent together. So much worse, because I know the lengths he’s willing to go. I know exactly how ruthless he can be now. And a twisted part of me enjoys it.
“Swallow it,” he grunts after pulling out of my mouth. “All of it. Every drop. Then I want to see that pretty tongue all clean for me.”
Glaring at him, I struggle to do as he tells me as I fight to breathe and stem the flow of tears. Finally, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. His slow, sinister smile makes me want to claw it off his face.
“Good girl. Now come here.”
He reaches for me before I can resist and hauls me into his lap. My eyes bulge when I feel him still semi-hard underneath me. Then, before I have enough time to organize my thoughts or prepare a defense, he’s ripped the lace thong under my dress. He pockets the tattered remnants. I hadn’t realized I could feel even more vulnerable, but I do.
“If we had more time, I’d take your pretty little cunt right here, but we’ll have to make this fast. Spread your legs for me.”
The blush on my cheeks intensifies when he shoves my dress up my hips and finds me bare. A rumble sounds from the back of his throat. He folds himself beneath me and slides down until his torso rests on the car seat, and I’m hovering over his mouth. A bark of disbelief rips from my throat before he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks. Hard. Adrenaline lights a fiery path from the anger swirling in my chest to where the unwanted friction stokes a spark between my thighs.
“O’Connor, fuck, stop. I don’t want?—”
Popping off, he pins me with a look. “You’ll letmetell you what you want.”
He holds my thighs with a forceful grip, keeping me against the steady onslaught of his devious tongue as he licks me until all my objections wither and die in my throat. I try to smother him—I swear to God, I give it my all—but he doesn’t make the slightest sound of protest or even attempt to get me to lift my thighs from where they bracket his head. I grip the headrests of the bench seat to hold myself upright, my fingers digging into the leather as I do everything in my power to block the sensations from converging into anything other than horror.
He may be lethal, but he’s also patient and too observant for my own good. The drive from the cathedral to our destination must be longer than I thought because even though I’m trying not to react to his relentless assault, I find my resolve weakens far sooner than I thought possible.
I close my eyes, and that seems to make it worse. I can feel every flick of his tongue as it circles the sensitized nub of my clit. He draws it into his mouth and sucks until it’s throbbing and swollen with blood, tender to the slightest movement. He teases my lips and thighs with his fingers, scoring them lightly until I shake above him, muscles fighting for control over a reaction that can’t be mastered. The sounds of his mouth working are obscene, filling the small space.
He plunges his tongue inside me, thick and far more dexterous than I thought possible. His nose bumps against my clit with every lick, and I swallow back the moans that threaten to spill from my throat. O’Connor is even worse than I imagined. I thought he’d use my mouth, and that would be the end. That he would revel in his display of ownership and be done with it. No, this is even worse. He is determined to make my bodyenjoyit.
The more I try not to respond, the more I find I lose control of my reactions. His hands move to cup my ass cheeks until he works my hips into a rhythm against his mouth. Everything that isn’t in his control trembles in an effort to hold myself back, but I realize too late that it forces an almost echo chamber effect so that I feel every thrust or lick a thousandfold the more I try to ignore it.
He works my body into a frenzy with an unforgiving, single-minded focus that sends tendrils of fear snaking through my consciousness. By the time I realize I’m hovering on the edge, ready to throw myself off it, it’s too late.
He seems to realize it before I do and wraps his arms around my hips, pulling me more fully onto his face. I try to fight him with all that I have, but it only works to rub my clit and cunt against his devastating tongue. My thighs clench around his head, and he groans as I tremble to keep my orgasm at bay.
The sound of his obvious enjoyment trips something in my brain. He eats my pussy like he’s never wanted anything in this world as much as he wants to have me come all over his face. And because I don’t want it just as badly, because I know it’s wrong and Ihatehim for it, hearing him moan and pant for me causes me to let my guard down just enough that the waves of heat and bliss overtake me from low in my belly until they radiate upward like waves of sunlight.
His low groan of satisfaction is muffled because his tongue thrusts inside me to lap up my release, drinking it down like I’m the finest wine.
When I’m racked with aftershocks, he pulls back with a satisfied gleam in his eye, lips wet from me. He licks them clean, his eyes half-hooded, and says, “Who knew my wife could be such a good little slut?”
CHAPTER 9
AIDEN
As soon as her shaking subsides, Catriona attempts to move away, but my hand at the back of her neck is an iron shackle as I sit up and arrange her draped over my lap. When my phone bleats out an incoming call, I pull it from my coat pocket, note the name with a curse before answering, and press it to my ear as she continues her futile attempts to scrabble away from me.
“O’Connor,” I answer distractedly. My dick is already rock hard again, and I’m imagining all the filthy, fucked-up ways I can have her coated in my cum. Mark her as mine. Make her pay for all the trouble she’s caused. Punish her for the position she’s put me in. We’ll both be lucky if we aren’t dead in a week.
Christ,fuck. I should have stayed at the church.
Fixed it all with Rory.
But the moment I’d seen it was her under the veil, fury had consumed me and rooted me to the spot.
I’d wanted to torture her like she’s tortured me. Demand recompense in the form of her plaintive little cries, her tears. If only she’d done what she was told, everything would be fine.
