Page 88 of Unseen

He rolled me onto my back, gazing down at me, his face a twisted mix of desire and desperation. “Then choose me. Here, and now. Choose me, Evie.”

An errant tear ran down the side of my face, and I shook my head. “I cannot choose you.”

“Why?”

“Because I should not want to!” I cried, and the honesty of the confession was so sudden it surprised us both. “I should not want to choose the man who threatened me, who forced me into a marriage, who ruined my name and my reputation, who… Who… did those things to me in his bed.”

Azriel’s eyes smouldered with something untold and forbidden. “You feel you should not… But you want to.”

I bit my lips together, my eyes searching his face, wondering how to escape this. He had tricked me into vulnerability, and yet I could not conjure up the same hate I had felt for him. I could not hate him. Even if I did not love him yet, even if my heart was still guarded as our future remained unclear, I knew that I wanted him. From whatever dark and wicked place that want came from, I did not know and I did not care.

I nodded. “Yes, I want to. I want to be your wife, in every way, in every way I was not allowed to be a wife before.”

With a hungry groan, Azriel buried his face in the crook of my neck, biting and kissing my skin, raising my hands above my head and pinning me down beneath him.

“Azriel,” I breathed as his mouth moved along my collarbone. “You cannot. I… My bleeding.”

He raised his head, his lips full and warm. “If you want me, you may have me, blood be damned. But I will not force you.”

The thought should not have aroused any feelings within me, but god help me, it did. It felt a step too far, another fall down into the pits of depravity I found myself tumbling into every day.

“It does not repulse you?” I asked, gazing up at him.

Azriel shook his head, frowning. “There is not a single thing about you that is repulsive.”

I shifted beneath him, lifting my hip to rub against his stiff length, and he bit back a groan. “Perhaps…” I blinked at him shyly. “Perhaps you could show me what you meant when you said you wanted to see your cock between my breasts?”

His eyes flamed, and a grin passed over his lips. “For one who looks so innocent, what lies beneath is truly wicked.”

“It was your fantasy, not mine.” I took his face in my hands, wanting to take control for a moment, wanting to direct how ferociously I kissed him, wanting to nip and bite at his lips, tasting him and feeling his tongue sparring with mine. “But it is one I would like to indulge.”

He rose to his knees, running a hand down my chest, my stomach, before undoing each tiny button on my nightgown. He opened it slowly, savouring every inch of my skin as it was revealed to him.

“You are such a beauty, beloved. My own, perfect beauty.” He cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples, which were so sensitive that even that touch had my sex clenching, my thighs strung together as I whimpered. “You know that some women reach their climax simply from having their breasts touched?”

I shook my head, heat erupting down my spine. “No, I did not know that.”

“Mmm.” Azriel lowered his mouth to my nipple, the very tip of his tongue probing that stiff peak. “We shall have to try it sometime. Now.” He straddled my chest, gently, carefully, so as not to crush me beneath his weight. “Where would you like me to spill upon you, beloved? You did so enjoy having it all over this pretty face.”

Another secret thrill, another thought that should not have delighted me so. “On my chest, as you dreamed it.”

His hand splayed over me there, his obscenely swollen member resting against me. “As you wish.” He spat into his hand, rubbing it over his sex. “This is much more enjoyable with oil, but we shall have to try that another time.”

“Alright.” My voice was suddenly small, and I obeyed as Azriel took my hands, pressing them to the outer mounds of my breasts and directing me to push them together around him.

With a jerk of his hips, he slid between them, and he hissed. “Oh fuck, Evie. Tighter.”

I pressed them together harder, and he groaned loudly.

Even though he was straddled on top of me, even though I felt so small beneath him, something about this position made me feel powerful. It made me feel as though I was in control.

He gazed down at me, a shuddering breath leaving his lips, rolling his hips and forcing his stiff length forward.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, his voice strained with want. “You take me so well no matter where, don’t you, my little viper?” His hips bucked as I pressed harder, and warmth dripped onto my skin from the tip of his sex, aiding his movements. “Oh fuck.” He hissed, bracing his hands against the headboard above me.

He was beautiful above me, beautiful and devilish andfilthy. But this did not feel like being used. It did not feel like being an object, a thing. His possession.

No, this felt like something altogether different.

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