Page 42 of Thorns Laced In Blood

I sucked the head into my mouth before the droplet could fall.

An entire room for sex.

Kinky sex? Dirty sex? Why had he hidden it away from me?

I stared at his green eyes. My curiosity was piqued.

“Can I see it?” I asked, releasing his cock.

He grinned so wide that all his pearly white teeth were on show.

What had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 26

Saul

My devious plan was to fuck her into oblivion until she slept so I could get to the information Dylan had collated. Grayson sent me everything, and Michael shadowed Athill. Gavin and Maggie O’Neill would be picked up in a few days. It would take a while to track down and verify the rest of the men, but this was an excellent start.

Maeve was moving around the room like a naked spirit nymph. The sunlight shone in from both sides of the loft. She had a spring in her step that made me smile. The room was light and airy. The only dark colours were the furniture and some brickwork.

She opened up the bathroom door to peer into it before closing it. The second door had a different reaction. She walked inside and didn't come back out. I almost groaned at the thought of her investigating all the shelves, toys, and restraints. I rarely had the patience for people, not even with my family, but with Maeve. I wanted to give her the world.

Maeve came out of the closet wearing pink and black fox ears on her head.

“How many whips and dildos do you need?” she asked, shaking her head before she touched her fluffy. “I like these, though.”

“You won’t be complaining when I used them all on you,” I said, walking toward her.

“Can I go on the swing? That looks like fun,” she said with an infectious grin.

This woman constantly obliterated me without even trying. Her playful, innocent personality shone as bright as the NorthStar. She talked about the sex swing as if it were a regular swing in a park. There was no denying her sway over me. She could switch from being submissive to demanding within the blink of an eye.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, but her voice wavered and her hands clenched together.

She didn’t get to be this alive and not be mine. I didn’t save her. I claimed her. I didn't care if that made me a monster as long as I was her monster.

“I was picturing you on the swing,” I said, flicking her hair away from her scar.

The final scar she received when she fled Athill. I kissed it. Then I dragged my tongue over the ridge of it, slow and deliberate, as if I could seal the cracks he left behind with nothing but my ravenous hunger.

Her breath stuttered. Her hands pressed against my chest—not to push me away, but to bind herself to me.

“Master,” she sighed, the word fell from her lips like a devoted prayer.

Like surrender.

Fuck.

She had me by the balls, this broken, beautiful thing, but I owned her every breath from the moment Dom handed her to me.

“I know what you want, slave,” I said, cupping her ass cheek, allowing my fingers to rest on the crack. “Go climb on your swing, and your Master will feed this hungry little hole of yours.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, but her eyes glazed over. I didn’t need to check her pulse because her laboured breathing told me everything.

Our twisted devotion to one another was symbiotic—parasitic, even. I fed on her surrender, and she thrived on my control. She was perfect against my grotesque darkness.

I gripped her ass and locked my lips on hers, pulling her head back by yanking her hair, kissing her with silent filthy promises to ruin what was left of her. She fought back against my plunging tongue, reaching for my leaking cock in my shorts, pumping my hard length until a growl erupted from my chest to my mouth. It didn’t stop me from devouring her hot, wet mouth.

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