Page 27 of Hated Vows

“Turning the Sahara into the Amazon, sir,” I want to tease, but wouldn’t dare.

His hands on my inner thighs kill any answer as he settles between my legs. My impulse is to close up, but he is spreading me open, and I know I’m not ready for this. Everything has been new tonight, but this… this might be too much. I strain against his hold, wanting to clam up as much as I want to see and feel what he plans to do next.

“Matteo,” I protest, but he doesn’t care or listen. His hold is firm, his mouth on my skin, pressing kisses to my inner thigh, his nose trailing the sensitive skin between my leg and pussy. When he finally licks along the length of my sex, to the side, off center, I jerk my hands, straining against my bonds, my hips quivering in response.

“What am I going to do with you,” he whispers as he smooths his lips over my mound, placing a soft kiss in the center, then teasing the tip of my slit with his tongue. “Are you always wet like this or is this for me?”

I shudder at his words, at the reality that this is all him, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction. I feel him smirk with the heat of his breath as he makes his way down the other side, licking, torturing me by avoiding my clit. I’m digging my fingers into the soft fabric of the cami, working it, struggling to free myself and stop him from doing more.

My body has other plans. My pelvis presses up, seeking more from his lips, his tongue, the rough scratch of his stubble even more arousing against my delicate skin.

His hand slides down my inner thigh and pushes my lips wide open, and then he dips his head to circle his tongue around my entrance. I gasp, suddenly desperate to get away from the intensity of his delicate, deliberate assault. My thighs quiver but he is holding me open, pinning me down, refusing to grant me any reprieve. He groans as he shifts gears and grips my butt, and then laps at me, his tongue gliding over my clit and back. I arch into his mouth, release building up from deep inside of me.

I tug once more and my one hand slips free, then the other.

“Matteo, please.” I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself. I can’t think of anything else but to reach for him and rake my fingers into his hair, wanting to connect with him. He sucks my clit and the release I’ve been denying myself ever since he captured me rips and shatters through me in a thousand shards of pleasure. I cry out his name and he doesn’t stop, he keeps at it until I’ve ridden out the wave, my hips trembling, my legs quivering against his hold with the intensity of my release. Without a doubt there’ll be bruises.

My fingers caress his hair, conveying what I can’t in words. It’s only when he looks up, dark shadows over his face, that I pull away. He grips my hands, keeping them away from his body as he sits up.

“You don’t listen, do you? You’re a little rebel and it’s going to get you hurt or worse.” He wipes at his mouth, and my legs finally slump together in exhaustion. “I should fucking spank you for not listening.”

23

MATTEO

Fuck.

The temptation to discipline her is only outweighed by the temptation to fuck her. Good and proper. Plunge into her and make her mine.

Mine. The one thing she can never be.

She’s as good as dead but I haven’t figured that out yet, neither do I want to think that far or what that would entail. Not when her sweet juices still cling to my face, or while the orgasm that ripped through her has my cock screaming for my own release. Her chest rises and falls with every breath as she comes down from her orgasm, the glow in her eyes telling me what I already know.

She wants more. She wants my cock. It’s obvious in the way she’s studying my body, her hands straining against the grip I have them in, eager to reach for me. I glance down at her, at the beautiful glow radiating from her, the fine sheen of sweat on her skin like silver fairy dust.

She is so fucking beautiful, it hurts. The way she reacted to my touch was like a drug, drip-drip-dripping into me with every caress, every stroke, wanting me to go slower, watch her for longer, drag her pleasure out until she couldn’t take it anymore. She isn’t used to begging, but I’ll teach her how… And she will love it.

To have a woman like this—to worship, to love, to pleasure?—

Her hands in my hair?—

I kill the thought. My type doesn’t have women like this. Pure, unblemished, unchartered by a thousand cocks that dug their souls out. My type fucks and leaves.

Best I remind us both of that.

“You were shot, twice,” she says, her voice soft. “Your tattoo?—”

“Yes,” I say, pulling at her wrists, forcing her upright. I’ve been stabbed too, but those marks are on my back. And whipped. Sliced open by thin leather, the scars now part of my dragon’s tail.

“The dragons’ eyes are your bullet wounds.”

I should have gagged her for real. “Yes.”

“Who are they?” she asks when she’s finally managed to scramble to her knees, facing me. “Your dragons?”

That question should help my fucking cock to cool off already. Instead, it wants to toy with her belly button. Wrong hole, asshole.

“Too many questions, kitten.” I jerk her towards me and gather her hands behind her back, relishing the pressure her body gives mine when it traps my cock between us. She struggles back, staring up at me, eyes wide, lips open with the shock of being so easily manipulated and tossed around. She is a light little thing, and I’ve been doing weights for decades. That she’s still caught off guard is kind of funny.

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