Every night before he took me.
Every scene we played and every nightmare he delivered, he always asked before he fucked me.
Surrendering into his savage hold, I sucked in a breath and hissed, “Fuck you for ever making me think you were different.”
His eyes snapped closed; his nostrils flared.
When his gaze opened again, his utmost gratitude flared with absolute corruption.
“Aw, don’t be like that, little nightmare.” With trembling hands, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “I never hid who I was. In fact, I remember telling you that I’d be the worst friend you’d ever had.”
“One day, I’ll make you pay for this.” I did my best to hide how my heart flurried as his hands landed on his hips and shoved his boxer-briefs to mid-thigh.
His body.
His beautiful, perfect body.
So hard for me.
So bad for me.
Grabbing me around the waist, he hoisted me high. His fingers activated a particularly deep lash from the flogger all while stroking those maddening little coded circles on my skin.
Our own language.
A way of communicating right beneath Victor’s nose.
God, I love you. His thumbs swirled over the blue H marking my thigh.
I need you. I arched into his touch. Now.
“You’re soaking for me.” He chuckled. “Tell me again how you intend to make me pay.”
“Put me down.” I snapped my teeth. “Don’t touch me.” Squirming in my binds, I couldn’t hide my tattered moan as his hips lodged against mine and the heavenly nudge of his hot, hard cock found me.
My heart unravelled.
My blood prepared to detonate.
“Don’t touch you?” He smirked, rocking his hips between my legs, coating himself in my arousal. “But where would be the fun in that?”
His teeth found my ear and bit hard, all while his quietest whisper licked against my soul. “You own me, Ily. Body and soul.”
And then, he thrust.
Hard.
Vicious.
A spearing, pillaging penetration as he claimed me as spoils of his war.
I screamed.
I didn’t fake that.
It felt too good as our two bodies became one.
With a feral snarl, Henri’s control snapped.