“You want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue?”
The filthy offer sent a rush of liquid heat between my legs. I nodded again.
A smirk sounded in his voice. “Pity I had to tape that pretty mouth. You’d sound sweet begging me for it.”
Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t be able to. Because he was right, the bastard. I wouldn’t hate it if he made me beg. Not right now, in the moment. Later? Maybe, but it wouldn’t be directed at him so much as at myself.
“If it feels like surrender, that’s because it is.” He leaned over me and inhaled deeply against my neck. “Fuck, cara, you changed everything in your life except that scent.”
My brain scrambled to process that, but he was already tearing open the thin satin robe. His hard touch traced down the center of the bustier, gaze hardening as he looked at it.
“This never belonged to him,” he growled, voice dripping with venom. “Or any other man.”
I had to fight not to squeeze my legs tight as both hands wrapped around my ribs.
His voice grew husky. “It’s always been mine. By your own admission, it belongs to me.”
With that came a distant memory rising from the tombs of the dead and buried things.
I stared hard at the man before me, trying to reconcile the past with the present.
But it hurt too badly. Like everything in my life, there was only agony and struggle. It was easier to forget. To face each day with ambition and throw myself into the next goal—and the next after that.
His gaze cut to mine. A frantic desperation wanted me to see something that might not be there.
If it was, if this washim, would I still fight?
My heart thumped against the walls I built to protect myself. It didn’t matter. If it was just a nameless monster behind the mask, or a man I used to know, the beast towering above me was a stranger.
Skating his hand over my breast, he didn’t break eye contact as he peeled back the fabric. The air cooled my burning skin, and a rush of electricity whispered over my sensitive nipple. It was replaced a moment later by the hard pinch of his fingers.
“I dreamed of punishing you, cara mia. The sins of your father require nothing less,” he snarled.
There was so much hatred, but behind the horrifying declaration was a pent-up frustration. Many people wanted my father dead, so it was no surprise that this was part of our twisted situation. I latched onto that detail like a lifeline. If it was a choice between death or something else, I would choose the latter, even knowing there were worse things than death.
“I should hate you, too, but I can’t. You’re safe with me.” He pinched the nipple hard enough for a tear to leak from my eyes. “I’ll never hurt you if it can be avoided. I’ll just have to fuck you harder when I’m angry.”
The toxic, self-destructive she-demon in my mind preened at the idea of being used.
I was broken. So broken that no wholesome relationship was going to fix me. My only hope was to embrace the dark offering this monster gave and pray it was enough to sustain me.
Gripping the bustier in both hands, he tore the metal fastenings open. Hooks and eyes bent under his will, and in some places the threads holding them to the material popped.
I lay still, completely transfixed by the brutal show of force. In this moment, I was the prey, and there was nothing to do but wait for the taste of his anger, knowing I might not be strong enough to survive it.
His touch scorched my skin as he drew both hands down my chest, skimming my breasts and dragging his fingers across my ribs. Those hands were large against my slim frame. It was painfully obvious that he could crush me if he squeezed.
An ache formed in my chest as he bent over me. Because there was gentleness in his touch as he reached between my legs to stroke me. It contradicted the danger radiating from his straining frame.
It’s like he can’t hurt me.Even if hewanted to.
I inched my legs open.
His laugh was harsh. “So…you do remember how to beg.”
Again! That repetitive hint.
Either he was a complete psychopath, or the impossible was happening right before my eyes.
