Page 628 of Coal Hearts

His tongue was everything. Deep and worshipping, addictive and all-consuming.

I groaned as a flush of sick, sick desire made my entire body contract.

“Christ, you have no idea what this is doing to me.” His voice sounded utterly inhuman. “Your blood. Your taste. I can’t wait any longer. I can’t fucking do this.”

Breathing hard, he flipped the lever.

With a wooden groan, the cross righted itself, taking me with it. My head swam as I went from down to up.

Dizziness added to my desire.

Out-of-control hunger only magnified as he grabbed my hips and stroked his thumbs in those maddening little swirls.

I was too far gone to sense him beneath the game we played. Too deep into lust to care about anything but coming. “Please...” I whimpered.

Tracing his thumb over the sore sapphire-branded wounds, he sighed in absolute awe. “It looks like you got mauled by a beast with blue claws. A beast that can spell...”

I looked down.

H.

A crude, primitive H marked my skin forever.

“You...” My words slurred. “Autographed me.”

His eyes snapped closed; he swayed on the spot. When he opened them again, I no longer existed in this world. I was his. Just his. My every thought, breath, and whimper...his.

“So you never forget.” He licked his lips. “Now...tell me, little nightmare. Do you need me? Tell me you need me, and I’ll put you out of your misery.”

It took every ounce of control. Every drop of discipline. But I shook my heavy head and mumbled, “Fuck...you.”

He grinned.

A boyish, blinding grin.

Leaning close, he breathed, “Mon Dieu, je t’aime.” (My God, I love you.)

Dropping to his haunches, he unbuckled my ankle restraints then stood and laughed for our audience. “Ah, Ilyana, I think you’ll find I’m about to fuck you.” Without warning, he spun me around again. My front whacked against the cross, sending agonising shockwaves through my breasts.

“No,” I panted. “No more.”

“No more? You should know by now not to tell me what to do.” His voice was gravelly with sin as he tripped away from me. “For that, I’ll give you more. Three more before I fuck you. Hold on.”

“No—” I screamed as he flicked his wrist.

The whip sang. Connected. Pain.

This one thinner, crueller—a single bite of torture.

“I need you to suffer,” he groaned. “I need you to know how it feels.”

A faint ringing noise was my only warning as he whipped me again.

Tight and tangy, tormenting and torturous.

I moaned as pain became pleasure. Life became death. And he became the only thing that could save me.

My body took control, preparing to come without any other touch.