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She wisely stays where I put her when I let go. I step back and work the soap into a lather between my hands. She jolts when I drop the soap into the basket near her hip, and I smirk as she jerks again as I touch her shoulders.
I skim my hands over every inch of her backside, keeping my touch as clinical as possible, but when I drop to my haunches and scent her desire, my control slips. I fill my hands with her ass and knead the firm muscles until fresh, fragrant slick joins the water sluicing down her legs.
I dip my thumb between her cheeks. She stiffens and makes a small sound of protest. I file the reaction away for later and frame my hands around her backside before leaning forward and filling my mouth with her flesh.
I mock bite her, hard enough to hurt but not break skin.
“Maybe I should mark you here first,” I mumble as I nuzzle the curve of her ass.
“You’re disgusting,” she hisses, but the breathy quality of her voice betrays her body’s reaction.
I hum and finish cleaning the back of her legs before standing and spinning her around by her shoulder and hip. She gives token resistance as I direct her arms parallel to the deck and wrap her fingers around the bar. Her breasts lift as the movement stretches her chest.
I work the soap in my hands and drop it back into the basket before cupping her lower ribs. White froth runs down her abdomen and highlights the juncture of her thighs.
My mouth waters. I grit my teeth and soap her breasts, shoulders, and arms. The slippery glide negates the calluses on my digits, and I inch closer to mania as my prey quivers under my hands.
Her jaw tightens and the scent of her fear mingles with her body’s natural response as I palm the sweet, slick flesh between her legs, creating an intoxicating perfume. I growl and nip at the top of her ear.
Salty tears cut through the aroma of soap and lust. I lean further down and lick her cheek before the shower washes it away. A groan escapes from my throat as my fingers thread deeper between her intimate folds.
I grip the bar beside her shoulder and drop my head back, using the spray on my face to center myself. Need pulses through me, stronger than ever before, but I focus on the numb, itchy sensation around my scar and use the reminder to rekindle my fury.
For over two decades, I clung to the savage beast in my soul who demanded revenge. This tiny female will not be my undoing.
When I lift my head, dark brown eyes capture my attention, but she aims her gaze over my shoulder. Her entire body vibrates.
With the scent of soap receding, I explore deeper between her folds and tease her tight opening before trailing my middle finger upward and finding her clit. She jerks as I circle the hardened nub, so I do it again and enjoy her reluctant shudder as intense pleasure barrels through her. Her pupils dilate and the blush covering her breasts and face darkens.
I draw sensual designs around her sensitive bundle of nerves before ghosting the tip of my finger directly over her clit. She rises onto tiptoes and arches her back, so close to orgasm her breath stutters, but I pull my hand away from her and relish her crestfallen expression.
I capture her chin with my slick-covered thumb and forefinger and force her gaze to mine.
“Pain isn’t the only form of torture I have planned for you, tiny scorpion. I’ll make you crave me. Need me. Beg for me to claim and conquer your body. To master your soul. To knot that tight, pretty little cunt.”
Her pupils shrink and she retreats deeper into herself. I expect her to rebuke my claim, but she blinks and stares up at me without a trace of emotion in her eyes.
My patience snaps. I fist her hair, yank her away from the rack, and pull her behind me. Twisting pulls the slowly leaking wound in my hip, reminding me of the cold, unforgiving edge of her blade as it sank into my flesh. She stumbles, but I don’t wait for her to regain her footing, half dragging her the last few steps to the shower seat.
When I drop onto my ass and yank her toward me, she has no choice but to stagger closer until her hips wedge between my inner thighs. My cock leaks as my tip brushes the soft flesh of her lower belly.
I release her hair, grab her wrist, and plop the soap into her palm. She dares to meet my gaze.
I drop my ultimatum and watch as emotions flicker across her face.
No matter how hard she resists, I will win. I will claim her. I will make her mine in every way possible.
Because this tiny scorpion reaches deeper than my revenge. I hate it, but I haven’t survived this dystopian wasteland by sticking my head in the theoretical, nonexistent sand.
I will claim her because I want her.
Revenge is sweet after all.
Sweet, spicy, and spiteful, just like my tiny scorpion.
Chapter 5
Vynn
