Dear Goddess… Have I made a terrible mistake?
I prepare to back away.
Prepare to accept that safety between us will never be possible.
And then, with a heartbreaking groan, he drops to his knees before me, his head bowed, his hair falling forward. His sudden drop wrenches his shackled hand above his head, the chain clattering against the wall.
His voice rasps. “Come here. I will give you what you want.”
I step forward, preparing to cast aside my need, to drop to my knees before him and cup his cheek, to soothe whatever brokenness has forced him to bow before me.
The moment I close the gap, his free arm snakes across my backside, and he jerks my hips forward, stopping me from kneeling. At the same moment, his head rises, and his mouth closes over my center.
The rush of warmth, the heat of pleasure, brings a cry to my lips.
My hands close over his shoulders, allowing me to brace and balance against him, my heightened awareness dragging in every sensation from his mouth and even his other hand, where it clamps across my backside, his fingers kneading my muscles.
He buries his tongue harder against me, a push and ease, every swirling motion faster than the last until I’m whimpering with need.
When he pauses, I cry out in protest, but he takes only a moment to speak.
“Hold on to me, Thyra,” he snarls as he removes his free hand from behind my backside. “It’s up to you to brace.”
I grip harder onto his shoulders, keeping myself close to him as he drives a finger inside me while his mouth resumes destroying me.
Groaning, I rock and push against him, needing more.
He quickly slides a second finger inside me, slipping both in and out until I’m thrashing against him.
So complete is my need that I nearly miss the moment when he gives another low snarl, but the sound makes me acutely aware of the intense tension in his body, the scrape of his teeth against my soft folds, the hard thrust of his fingers, a friction in the air around him that warns me he’s a danger to me right now.
A terrible danger. Even if I don’t understand how.
“You won’t hurt me,” I gasp, using every muscle in my body to brace against his thrusting fingers so I can run one hand into his hair, tugging his head back, forcing him to look up at me.
My heart nearly stops at the darkness in his eyes.
The savage threat. The pain. The promise of pure violence.
Even though my tug on his head has broken the hard contact of his mouth against my clit, his hand continues to slide in and out of me while his lips brush my folds.
I drag air into my chest and harden my voice,commanding him as sharply as he’s thrusting his fingers into me. “You won’t hurt me.”
He jolts forward again, his tongue pushing across my exposed core, but now his eyes are raised to mine, every threat bared to me.
The crash is only heartbeats away, but I hold it off.
“You won’t hurt me,” I whisper, my chest heaving.
He’s snarling. Beastly growls. I’m certain he doesn’t believe me.
My hands curl more tightly around his shoulder and across the back of his head.
I sense his muscles bunch, as if he’s about to act, and I don’t know if he’s going to attack me. Hurt me. Kill me.
But I refuse to be afraid.
I fucking refuse.
