“No?” he asked, and I shook my head again, smiling against his flesh when my teeth sank ever deeper. When the salty tang of blood flooded my mouth and replaced the deepest shame I might imagine with the rush of vengeance. “Fine,” he whispered, and snaked one hand between us, despite the grip I had on his flesh. Lining himself up—pumping once,twice, saturating himself in cream—he pressed rigid arousal into my melting flesh. Poised to take every last piece of me, he called my bluff, and said, “Then play time is over.”
I squealed, releasing him as I tried to claw my way to freedom. “A-Asher,” I cried, trying to bend my knees, to escape the heavy pall fogging my senses before it was too late.
He bucked against me with a fractured groan, the whisper of dark flames surging to life at the sound of his name on my lips. “I’m going to make you gape for me,” he whispered, hips pressing forward.Deeper. “You’ll feel it,” he rasped, one hand sweeping down, to lift my right thigh and leave my bent knee on the mattress. Leaving me wide open as he looked on. “In every step you take for the next week, you’ll feel me drip from this cunt and know who owns you.”
Eyes squeezed shut, I shivered. Clawing at the sheets. “I may be bound to you,” I rasped, breath hitching when he peeled slick lips apart, his thumb pressing the head of his shaft down, so it might pierce through all that was throbbing and untouched. “But I’ll n-never be yours.”
His hand settled on my hip, grip tight enough to bruise all the way through the fat and deep into my muscle.
And then he pressed forward to make his claim, to show me just how wrong I was without bothering to speak a single word. Stretching. Branding me from the inside as he stuffed every slow inch of himself inside me.
“This means n-nothing,” I gasped, hiccuping through the worst of it. The ache that begged to be submitted. Tamed. “O-only that I had the bad l-luck to be found by you first.” Burying my face into the blanket, I shuddered as he broke through the last of my restraint, sliding all the way to my roof. Where he struck something too deep and stole my breath.
“Fucksakes,” he snarled, not unmoved. Shivering at my back, where I couldn’t see. Could only feel the crackle of elite energy when it burned with desperate need. “So fucking tight. So—hnggh—so wet.”
I sucked a shaking breath between my lips and struck a blow meant to wound. “I wish it was the general,” I whispered, my words scarcely more than a breath. My heart in tatters. “I wish General Tilcot had found me first. At leasthe’dbe my equal.”
For a moment, the captain was still. Buried to the hilt, stretching me in ways I’d never thought possible, he filled me to the brim but still had more to give.
And then he surged forward.
Catching my right wrist in an unforgiving grip, he wrenched my arm behind my back. Twisting my forearm until he’d forced my fingers to sit between my shoulder blades, he bucked into me only to withdraw. To shift, slotting his right knee under mine—forcing me to brace on one leg as he pulled back and kept me off balance as he mounted me. He bucked back inside in a single, brutal thrust that dragged a ragged little scream from my lips.
“You want to be treated like a whore?” he snarled, fucking into me with all the fury coursing through his blood. The wounded pride. “Is that it? You want to be fucked like a sleeve? Used by whoever earns a turn?”
Eyes bulging, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe or fight. I could only lay there, pinned, speared, and helpless, as I took what I had provoked. My blood saturated withhim.
My body.
Every erratic beat of my heart wound me tighter, pulling me deeper into the flames until I was burning with it. Aching and hurting for a thing I couldn’t name.
“Do you want to be like Sasha?” he spat, and hooked his forearm beneath my chin. Every heaving, blistering inch of muscle surging against my back, my trapped wrist locked in place by the weight of his chest. “Beaten down.Broken,” he growled, beard rasping against my cheek. “A shell of the woman she was. A walking ghost who’s seen what horror really is.”
“A-Asher,” I gasped, small and weak, and felt him grow impossibly hard. Felt him swell inside me, at the base, where he stretched my opening. “Please—” I clutched at his forearm, needing mercy. Needing relief or torment.
“Fine,” he spat, and picked up a punishing rhythm. Giving exactly what I couldn’t ask for, he sat back. Perched between my thighs, where both hands found purchase on my hips, and he forced me to bend. Forced my pelvis to tip forward, to open for him as he fucked me breathless. “Then beg for my come, slave,” he snarled, riding me toward a crest. Gliding seamlessly in and out, he worked himself into a furious lather. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
I couldn’t.
Couldn’t name it, had no idea how to speak or where to begin.
I could only sob a wordless plea and pray for relief.
With a snarl, he drove into me with one final, punishing thrust. “Take it,” he spat, and pulsed as deep inside as he could get. Sending jet after jet of searing hot seed to splash against the entrance to my womb, twitching as he pumped me full.
“You’re going to come on this dick,” he growled, and slipped one hand over my hip and found the bead of my achingly swollen clit. “I want you to milk my balls dry,” he said, and rolled that bundle of nerves between two fingers. Sending a tendril of smoldering, dark energy straight into my tender, traumatized flesh.
Squealing, I tried to buck him off. Panicked by the flood threatening to drown me. “I-I can’t—”
“Youwill,” he hissed, sluicing through my folds. Bumping the place deep inside that overwhelmed my every sense. “I can feel it coming,” he whispered, taunting me. “You’re shaking. So fucking tight it makes me want to come all over again.” Picking up speed, he worked my clit. Strumming it at the perfect pace. “I want to feel you come for me, pet. Do it,” he snarled, and wrapped strong fingers around the base of my throat.
My every muscle seized as the wave crashed. As he sent a tsunami of elite energy into my overwrought system and forced a brutal orgasm to wrench through my body.
“Oh,fuck,” he rasped, and I felt him pulse inside me all over again. Caught in the storm of his own making, he rode me though it with ragged breaths and clenching hands. Utterly overwhelmed by the convulsions he’d demanded milk him dry.
Shuddering to a stop, he collapsed across my back.
Heart thudding in time with mine.
