The turbulent storm grows, lashing my core that suddenly feels too empty, pulsing, needing him inside me, filling me up, ripping me apart.
A whine tears out of my throat as we move faster and harder against each other, our bodies simulating the most erotic sex I’ve ever had. The pressure condenses into a tight, tight point.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I moan.
Let me fall over the cliff, fall into the flames of hell with him.
“Myzemër,” he grits out, his tall frame trembling, his lips still sucking my tender neck. “Let me hear those sounds. Let me hear you coming for a man you hate.”
He bites me again.
I explode, my cry echoing in the dark room. A gush of wetness streams out of me as ecstasy I’ve never felt before blinds my senses until all I can see, smell, and hear are him.
Elias Kent, the Shadow King, my unwanted husband.
He drags one hard grind of his cock between my legs.
Then he drops me.
I slide to the ground, boneless.
“No one disrespects me or anything I own.” Fabric rustles and shoes squeak against the floor.
He opens the door, the club music bellowing in my ears.
Holding my gaze, he slowly cups his groin, gripping his hard-on through the confines of his pants.He hasn’t come.
He tugs it, and I whimper, remembering how good it felt against me.
“And you’remine, wife. Whether I like you or not.”
He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to me. “Cover yourself up and tell your friends goodbye. We’re going home.”
He stalks off.
My heart pounds as I sit on the ground, my body deliciously thrumming yet unsated, wondering what the heck just happened.
It’s twisted. So damn wrong.
And yet, why does it feel so right?
Chapter 31: WORDS BETWEEN SHELVES
The timer ticks down.Twenty-eight minutes start now.
I rake in a deep breath, the air thick with roses that’ll forever remind me of her, and stare at the monitors in front of me.
Fifteen screens—one for each room in the house. But currently, my focus fixes on the top right feed.
The library.
She just tried to break the unbreakable lock on the third floor. Then she cursed, lifted her leg to kick at the door, only to stop herself.
Then she stomps across the hallway to her favorite room here—the one filled with books, of course.
When will she learn she’ll only win this game if I let her?
A wry smile tugs at my lips.
