She has always been this way. When she first learned to touch herself, she couldn’t do it without simultaneously tugging on her own hair, or biting her tongue until it bled. For Claudia, pain heightens all pleasure—especially sexual. It makes pleasure feel earned.
Kneeling at Cassius’s feet, now eye level with his hips, she sees his hardened length pressing into his dark pants. Smiling down at her, he takes the book from her mouth and hooks her chin, lifting her gaze up to his.
Passion blazes in his eyes.
“Good girl,” he says.
Her strong gasp turns into a deep, guttural moan. Hearing him praise her is all she’s wanted for so long—granted, she imagined it in a more intellectual sense, in an academic setting.
But this… Oh,thisis so much better. This sets her heart on fire.Good girl.She’s never been called that before, and it’s a complete, earth-shattering revelation; this, she realizes now that she’s tasted it, is what she’s always wanted. Always needed. A chance to do something perfectly and to be praised so explicitly.
This is everything. Fuckingeverything.
Somehow, she’s been made good by the man she hates the most. He’s supposed to hate her, too—he told her so just days ago—but now she’s pleasing him, and all she wants is to satisfy more of his commands so he’ll call her that again.
Her desire at this moment is as powerful as it is when she gets a drop of Dorian’s power, but this time, it’s completely and entirely natural. There’s no magic between them—only hatred being refined into something stronger. Like ore into metal. Like coal into diamonds.
“Say that again,” she begs.
“Earn it.” He threads his fingers through her hair and pullshard. Wild moans erupt from her mouth, and Cassius pulls harder. It’s exquisite. With every second he maintains his tight hold on her hair, another wave of tension releases. Her eyelids flutter as the pain gives way to the pleasure tightening in her core.
“Tell me how. Anything.” She can hardly tear her eyes away from his lips. She needs to kiss him—now, for more than just a taste of his fear.
She wants to taste his desire.
One hand still in her hair, he reaches over to a drawer in his desk and says something in Latin—probably some charm he learned from Malevimus—and the drawer springs open. He pulls out a thin, flimsy collection of old parchment.
Holding it out of her reach, he says, “Is this what you want?”
She nods.
“Use your words.”
Claudia grabs the hem of his unbuttoned shirt and pulls him closer, pressing her chin to his waistband. Cassius pulls her hair. She can feel his cock pulsing against her throat. Her breath skates across his abs when she says, “Please give it to me, Cassius. Please.”
He stifles a moan, fighting to stay in control. “Again.”
“Please.”
“Louder.” He lets go of her hair and drags his thumb across her bottom lip. “Beg me with that pretty mouth.”
Driven by instinct, she sucks his thumb into her mouth, moaning and twirling her tongue around it. She teases a bite, catching his thumb between her teeth and clenching before releasing him. “Please. Please. Please,” she says, dragging out each word.
He leans down close, just barely bringing his lips to hers with a featherlight touch. It’s not a kiss. It’s a tease. A taunt. She tries to catch his lips, but his hand finds her throat and holds her back. He could choke her if he wanted to.
If Dorian is right about the MacLeods, Cassius could kill her right now.
Her heart beats louder than a war drum.
“Good girl,” he moans into her mouth, and her entire body trembles. Her nipples harden, poking through the lace of her dress, and she desperately wants Cassius to rip the fabric from her body and drag his tongue against her skin. Again, she aims for a kiss, but he keeps his lips out of reach. His hand tightens around her throat.
She loves it. She wants more. Tighter, harder.
“Again. Call me that again,” she pleads, but Cassius stands up straight, breaking the spell. Claudia nearly falls over when he steps away from her and walks to his door. She’s shaking all over like she’s been left out in the cold. For a second, Cassius braces himself against the wall and takes a deep breath. Then, he clears his throat and, to Claudia’s horror, opens the door, gesturing for her to leave.
No.No, no, no. They can’t be finished. Not when she’s aching so desperately for his touch, not when she feels like she might die if he doesn’t split her legs and drink deep from the throbbing space between her thighs.
Not when she didn’t get to see his fear.
