But I can’t take it away. I grasp the sandy locks in my hand, and he’s home, and I hate him for it.
‘Remember this moment the next time your emperor is fucking you.’
Everything in me shrinks from him, my arms pulling close into my chest, but he takes them, his strength so much greater than mine tonight. He forces them around his waist, locking his arms around me. “I didn’t know.”
He says it with an earnest strength that feels too dependable. Only I know better. “Would it have changed anything?”
His grasp is violent when his fingers sink into me, bringing my lips an inch from his, his chest so hard up against mine he could be all the breath I can’t take. “It would have changedeverything.”
His lips find mine, and it’s so gentle. It’s too gentle.
I can’t do this.
I turn my head away. “You don’t want me.”
“I want you.”
“No.” Tears fall hot down my cheeks as he kisses me. But I’m not crying. I’m not. Not for him. Not for anyone.
“I’m sorry, Marco.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Fuck off, Robin!”
I hate the way he pushes me down. I hate the way he climbs on top of me. I hate how his fingers rip into my hair, andfuck,I hate the way I crave him. I hate that my hands dig into his skin, that my dick’s hard for him. I hate that he’s everything, all at once and already. My one lifeline in this sick place.
I hate how much I want to hate him.
And I hate that I can’t.
He presses kisses to my neck, and my head tilts back for him. He wraps his palm across my cheek, and my head turns to him when he says, “Por eso desprendes el aroma de la luz del sol.”This is why you smell like sunshine.
My soul folds into him. My heart beats for him.
“Por eso me haces sentir la calidez del océano al atardecer.”This is why you feel like the warmth of the ocean at sunset.
He presses his fatally soft, achingly beautiful lips to mine.
“Por eso nunca he podido resistirme a ti.”This is why I could never resist you.
His tongue traces up my cheek, licking the saltwater from my skin. He places both hands either side of my face, too reverent, kissing me, kissing me again. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head against the words, locking them out. Locking him out.
His hand slides down, finding me hard for him, desperate for him, and my body grinds against him, a traitor to my every sense of self-preservation.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
He strokes my dick, and I fuck into his hand, sliding my fingers beneath his tunic, digging into the firm flesh of his back. He looks at me throughheavy-lidded eyes, darker than I’ve ever seen before. “Was I better than him?”
That sickness, that crushing nausea.
I pull back, my breath caught on the air between us.
His lips slam into mine, his hand fisting my cock harder, so I can’t breathe, can’t think, pleasure and shame and hate and lust and whatever the fuck this is that makes me rip red lines into his skin with my fingernails, pulling him against me.
