Page 47 of Legacy

“Too bad. I don’t take orders very well. I give them.” He rose, trailing his wet mouth up my torso, letting the stubble on his jaw brush over me as he moved.

When he caged me with an arm on either side of my head, he said, “Ask.”

I shook my head. This game we liked to play had new rules, and giving him this guaranteed that he held power over me.

Real marriage or not, we were using each other.

He was the enemy I’d chosen to marry—the enemywhose father had murdered Mama and orchestrated Papa’s slaughter.

“I won’t let you come at all unless you ask. I will fuck you and bring you to the point of going over, time and time again, to only leave you hanging.”

“You like making me come.”

He brought his face a hairsbreadth from mine, our lips so close only the barest shift would seal our mouths.

“I do. However, I can restrain this enjoyment if I get what I want.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Are you so sure about that?” he rubbed his jaw against my cheek, the abrasion of his trimmed beard as enticing as his wicked mouth. “You picked me, Avra. Now you deal with the consequence.”

Thirteen

Avra

A chill slid down my spine, and I swallowed it to ease my parched throat.

Eli wasn’t playing fairly, changing the dynamic of this game with a completely new rulebook.

“Don’t do this and make it something it can’t be.”

Quick as lightning, he clasped onto my throat, bringing his hard, erect body flush to my sopping pussy. I ground my pelvis to his thick, fabric-covered length to give my aching clit the friction it so desperately wanted.

“It already is. Your reaction says it all.” He rolled his hips, the torture so cruel and meant to leave me disappointed.

“It only means I like your big cock.”

“You never stop challenging me.” He jerked me forward as he stepped back, forcing me to stand and making me positive I’d wear his marks on my skin from his rough hold.

Breath unsteady, I licked my lips and then smirked when his attention shifted to my mouth for a fraction of a second.

“Why would I?” I cupped him, squeezing his erection. “It makes you hard.”

“Are you saying this is only about your pleasure and not mine?”

I brushed my chest to his, resisting the urge to moan at the feel of his crisp hair rubbing over my erect nipples. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You talk too fucking much.” He silenced me with a raw, brutal, bruising kiss.

A growl erupted from deep in my throat, and I slid my tongue alongside his. This was a rough and angry meeting of mouths mixed with a desperation I refused to focus upon.

I snuck my hand past the waistband of his pants and wrapped my fingers around his cock, the need for him growing at a fevered pitch.

This craving was complete insanity—to want a man this much. It shouldn’t matter that he liked I wasn’t meek or weak. As much as it angered him, it turned him on.

He broke the kiss. Fury lit his black irises. He released my throat and then threaded his fingers into my hair, pushing me to my knees, my face aligned with his crotch.

Goosebumps prickled my skin, and my pussy contracted, flooding with desire and coating the insides of my thighs.

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