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Chapter Ten
Beatrice’s heart was thundering like a galloping horse. The sharp pain that started at the base of her neck spread out over her skull, delightful prickles of sensation cascading over her, and uncomfortable warmth.
And she felt... Fortified. Strong. Held tight there in Briggs’s hold. And she could not understand why this was happening. Why he was now standing so close to her, why he was making her feel this way. And why he had the power to do so.
He had told her that for some pleasure and pain was one in the same. And the deep, curling sensation at her midsection made her feel he had been right. And more unsettling, she had a feeling he had known he would be right about her.
He was looking at her with a blazing heat that spoke only of confidence. He had known that he could do this. That she would not cry out or pull away from him. He had known that she would want to press herself more closely to him.
It was his certainty that rooted her to the spot.
It was his certainty that intrigued her.
That infuriated her.
The certainty of this... This man who was infinitely harder than the stone statues all around them.
He pulled again, and forced her chin to tilt upwards. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and she withstood. She felt proud. Infinitely so. For she was strong. And free.
Here, in this moment, she felt as if she was proving it. Not just to him, but to herself. To anyone who had ever found her weak.
This was her moment, to step into the role of warrior. Prove she could withstand.
And that thought alone brought her an infinite sense of satisfaction.
And then his mouth, oh, his mouth. It was on hers, and it was not the stuff of romance and softness. It was a hard sort of heat that she had never imagined. It was devastation. Each movement of his lips was expert and, combined with the intense tug on her hair, made her feel as if she were drowning.
Oh, she felt she was drowning.
And then, he slid his tongue between the seam of her lips, and her legs folded. But he caught her. By her hair. And the resulting tug drew a scream from her lips that he swallowed. His hold was firm, and he did not let her collapse completely. Briggs would never let her collapse completely, and in spite of everything, she felt that to be true. In spite of all the anger that had just passed between them, she trusted that.
She trusted him.
She found herself being pushed backwards, right up against that naked male statue. Because she had been right. Briggs was just as hard. But he was hot. The marble was cold beneath her back, and it dawned on her slowly, as she shifted her gaze for a moment to stare at the statue, that the very hard thing she could feel pressed against her stomach was...
Well, if she was correct, the statue paled in comparison to Briggs.
He was kissing her. She could not quite believe it. Did that mean that he... Did that mean that he wanted her?
She was so new to this. To the idea of desire. Of want. But he had said that people did this for reasons other than procreation. He had said that it was about pleasure. And pain.
And then she found the top of her gown, the chemise beneath, being pushed away, revealing her breasts.
He took a step away, only for a moment, and stared down at her, his expression hungry.
She was confident in that. His expression held hunger. She did not know how, but it was as if some ancient wisdom inside her body had materialised for this moment.
And she did not feel confused. Somehow, the absurdity of her lips meeting his, of his tongue sliding against hers, crystallised these mysteries, and if anyone had asked her how it would do that, she would have said she did not know. She would’ve said it was impossible. She would have said that she did not wish to be licked by Briggs, and yet now she knew she did. And that she wished to lick him in return.
He moved forward, holding her breast with one large hand. And then he pinched her. Slowly, carefully, applying even pressure to one tightened bud. And then, he made it hard.
She cried out, pain radiating through her body, an answering echo between her thighs. And it was like an exultant hallelujah chorus. A burst of bright, sharp hope echoing through her body.
A wash of strength pouring itself over her like liquid gold, coating all that she was and reinforcing her.
She felt like a warrior in this moment.
Real. True.
