Page 50 of Nocte
Except…
“How?”
“You’d need protection,” he grates out. “It isn’t safe. You’ll be eaten alive.”
He means it as a threat. A deterrent that should silence me. Yet, another request is already poised on the tip of my tongue. “Then… Come with me.”
He laughs as those eyes go wide. Then he groans and slips his hand between my legs—but I don’t clamp them tight like I should. His touch is sinful, coaxing my knees apart, letting him cup his palm against me. A mass of aching flesh, he has me, putty in his hands. Then he crooks a finger, sliding it inside me. Then another.
My eyelids flutter as I struggle to register the intrusion. He is ice cold. Hard as stone. Disturbingly gentle as he eases those probing digits deeper and deeper. I never knew one could feel so full and yet so empty. My senses scatter. Already, it’s getting harder to think. Remember…
Our bargain.
“Tell me,” I breathe before I lose my mind completely. Too late. His thumb comes to rest on a bundle of flesh that makes me lurch as if burned. In this moment, pain was expected—not what I feel crawling up my spine in its stead. Pleasure.
If he did so to silence me, the punishing friction does the opposite. My tongue loosens and a command slips out, “Helpme?—”
“No!” He means it, that angry wail. He won’t tell me. He can’t. He refuses. It’s forbidden.
“Please—” I reach for him, pressing a shaking hand to his shoulder. He snatches it and tugs my wrist downward, between us. A firmness brushes my fingertips. Danger. Pulsating. Ice. He wants me to cringe in fear—give him a reason to stop this.
I don’t. My fingers flex as if of their own accord. In response, he shudders, teeth grated, eyes blazing.
“I need to fuck you,” he rasps against my throat. He isn’t asking, yet… He wants an answer from me. Badly enough to wait for it, teeth gnashing, voice guttural. “Tell me I can,” he snaps in response to my silence.
I don’t know why these words spring from my tongue next, “Promise me first. Promise?—”
“No!” Grunting, he bats my hand away and wrenches my thighs further apart. His fingers are then replaced by something thicker. Heavier. Harder. It penetrates my outer folds with menacing pressure. Waits. Then his hand hooks around my backside as he slams into me. Groans. Goes limp.
I’m on fire, impaled, and emboldened all at once. I know without even looking down, what he’s initiated. What he’s done—taken his price. My body. My soul. All in a brief thrust of fiery pain.
Yet corruption isn’t the degrading destruction I thought it would be. I am not fearful and trembling. I feel swollen and needy. Desperate. Demanding. He is inside me and perhaps that is why; I’m infected with his power. His dominance.
How I even manage to speak, I’ll never know. Somehow, I plead into his ear, “Please. Promise… Say it?—”
“Fuck,” he says, grunting out the word as though it was being torn from his throat. His fingers flex, manipulating my waist so that our pelvises collide. Then he bucks his hips, making me empty. Slams forward. I’m full. Again, again and again, until the pain fades away and all I feel iseverything.
This isn’t mating. It is decimation. He rips through old barriers my body had in place and sows chaos in his wake. I whimper and writhe to adjust to the sensation. It is unlike anything else. Burning, aching, fulfilling pain, spreading like wildfire. Beneath the discomfort, I can’t deny a sense of relief.
His price has been paid. Our deal is done. But… I can’t escape a nagging need formore. More secrets. More corruption. More bargains to be struck. My fingers grip his shoulders tight as my vision clears and I catch my breath again. His face is buried against my shoulder now, leaving his ear within reach of my gaping mouth. “Please,” I beg of him. “Promise. Promise me?—”
“Yes,” he hisses, lunging forward, expanding his invasion. Another thrust. “I’ll take you. Yes, yes, yes?—”
It’s all I need to hear. It’s all I’ll need ever again.
He’ll help me. He’ll help me.
More relief renders me boneless, held up only by his grip. Undeterred, he grinds himself into me, as hard as he can. Nowhere near hard enough.
My thoughts splinter, and my one and only hope is pushed aside for a brief moment. As far as my body is concerned, it is all sin and fire. Finding relief is vital. I can’t think about anything else.
I can’t need anything else.
I bend my knees and wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Deeper. Not enough.
And then a dangerous sound—more alarming than the rest—slips out of my mouth and makes him growl in response. It makes him wild. He hooks his hands beneath me, wrenches me from the floor. Slams me against the wall, pushing into me from a newer angle. Harder. Harder.
Isn’t enough.