Page 29 of Crown of Blood

I smile. Dark. Cruel. “Then why are you trembling,little wife?”

With a sharp movement, our bodies collide together and I press her against the wall behind us, the train of her gown crushed between us, silk whispering against silk.

Her breath rushes out, and I kiss her—hard. Punishing. I kiss her like it’s a war and I intend to win. And fuck, Ido.

Her fists beat against my chest, but they quickly flatten and turn to weak little taps that go nowhere. Then she’s clutching me instead, nails raking down my shirt like she wants to tear it open and claw at my skin.

She might hate me. She might want me, too.

But she’ll never be free of me.

I shove the dress up over her hips, baring her thighs, her lace panties soaked through. I groan when I feel her heat against my fingers.

“No.” Her voice trembles as I drag the fabric down her legs. “You can’t—”

“Can’t what?” I hook her knee around my hip. “Claim what already belongs to me?”

“You forced me into this.”

I lean in, lips brushing her ear. “And yet you’re dripping for the devil.”

She gasps as I sink two fingers inside her. She’s tight, wet, clenching around me like she’s trying to stay in control. But she’s already lost that. The second she looked at me in that shitty hotel room, her body became mine to worship, to corrupt, toown.

I don’t stop fucking her cunt with my fingers until she’s gasping my name, clinging to me like she’s drowning. I dive into her with my fingers slow, relentless, watching her unravel and fall apart as I rub them against her wet walls until she's trembling right on the edge.

And then I pull back.

“Not yet,” I whisper against her lips. "You only get to come when I say."

I drag her to the bed and toss her down like a prize I’ve bled for. I rip open the buttons of my shirt, undo my belt, every movement watched carefully as my bride takes in every muscle laced with ink, every scar I've earned just to get to this moment.

Her eyes flick to my cock—hard, heavy, furious.

I step between her knees, grip her chin again, and tilt her face up until those defiant eyes meet mine. Her soft chapped lips are parted, her chest rising too fast that the flush in her cheeks gives her away immediately.

She’s trembling. Not from fear. From want. From the heat and lust pooling between her thighs, still slick with my fingers.

I glide my thumb across her lower lip. “You looked at me that night, little wife. In that hotel hallway. You didn’t run then.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

I lean in, sliding a hand down her side. “You still don’t.”

She glares, but it’s soft around the edges now. Cracks are starting to spider through her resolve. She’s wet and breathless, and I haven’t even touched her with my cock yet.

“You think I’ll let you pretend this marriage is just politics?” I whisper.

Her throat works as she swallows.

I grab her wrist and drag her hand down my front. I let her touch every muscle before she reaches around the throbbing ache between my legs that's driving me fucking crazy.

I don't even need to help in the end. She grabs me—tight—so she can feel just how ready I am to fuck her into obedience.

“You’ll never belong to anyone else again.” My voice is razor-sharp as I feel her begin to stroke me. “Not now. Not after this.”

I guide her down to her knees—slow, dominant, deliberate, all while her hand remains locked with a grip so tight I groan at the sight beneath me.

“You want control?” I murmur, watching the defiance war with need behind her eyes. “Then you won't just take it. You will earn it. You think I am yours as much as you are mine? Prove it, little rabbit.”

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