Page 79 of Wrathful King
Deep down, I knew that, but fear was an unreasonable animal. It taunted and destroyed you until you were left empty and alone.
“I know.” I gulped audibly, tremors rolling through my body. “Can I ask you something? Just this once…” He waited for me to finish while I gathered the strength for this fucked-up side of me. “Can you hurt me?”
Shame filled me. Hot moisture burned the backs of my eyes, but I knew they wouldn’t come. I must have cried my share of tears granted to me for this lifetime.
He stilled, then swallowed. “Why?”
My throat bobbed as I held his gaze. “You know my… history. The cutting. Pain was my release, but Cortes…” I shuddered. “I don’t know. He fucked with my head, Amon. I need to replace that pain he caused with this. You… Us. I need to take it back, because I just feel so out of control all the time. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”
Something passed his expression—understanding, or maybe resignation. I didn’t know.
“I’m sorry. Never mind.”
I started to move away but he stopped me. Pulling me closer to him, he stood up, my legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping my hips. He claimed my lips and my body pushed against his hard ridges.
I sensed he was moving us through the library, then into our bedroom.
I tugged on him as he lowered me, my back hitting the soft mattress, and pulled him down with me.
The tip of his nose brushed against mine as he took my wrists into his hands, pressing his warm lips on one, then the other, the scars a stark reminder of how far I’d taken things.
Slowly, his graceful fingers traced my skin and the scars. I held my breath when he leaned forward and started peppering kisses over each one, my tension evaporating more with every brush of his lips against my ugly marks.
My breasts bounced free when he unclasped my bra, and my nipples tightened with need. My panties followed as he gently slid them down my thighs, leaving me completely naked in front of him.
My hands flew to my abdomen to cover my scars. I wanted to be beautiful to him, and all these scars covering my body, from the beatings and the needles and from the cuts I’d inflicted, stood in the way of that. “Can we turn off the lights?”
“No.” His mouth pressed against the scar under my ribs, softly and reverently. Then he traced it with his tongue. “I want to feel every single scar.” His hot breath skimmed my breasts, my nipples hardening to painful buds. “Do you know why?”
His eyes lifted, watching me. “Why?”
“Because they’re proof that my wife is a survivor.”
I gulped, pushing my fingers through his thick hair. “Please, Amon. I need—”
Something was wrong with me, because I craved his roughness. I vibrated with the need to be hurt combined with the knowledge that I was safe. I wanted the pain and pleasure to cleanse my mind, to reset it.
My thoughts scattered when he grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me off the bed. I stumbled, but he kept me upright as he led us into the bright en suite with the view stretching over the Indian Ocean.
But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the giant mirror above the sparkling marble counter and our reflections that stared back at us. He pushed me against the sink and stood behind me, his eyes flashing.
I focused on the image of us. I was naked as the day I was born, while he was fully clothed. I was completely at his mercy. Releasing my wrist, he brought his hand around my throat from behind. The grip was firm, stealing my breath and telling me who was in control.
His other hand drifted down my hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake, then disappeared between my quivering thighs. My heart threatened to crack my ribs as I watched every detail of his unapologetic ownership in the mirror.
Two of his fingers thrust inside my core, and I stilled.
My skin flushed red, my scars whitening. There were many, but none were as ugly as the ones I’d inflicted on myself.
I shifted my attention to the floor, but Amon used his hold on my neck to force my eyes up.
“Watch us.” He thrust a third finger in, stretching me so fully that my knees almost gave out. “I want you to see me owning every part of you. You’re mine—your demons, your fears, your happiness, your fucking tears. They are allmine.”
The hoarseness of his voice put a spell on me, fading everything else into the background and leaving only us. He scissored his fingers, and a burst of pleasure flooded through me. My toes curled and I let my head fall back against his chest.
He pounded his fingers harder and faster, sending me to the brink of madness. My eyes fluttered halfway closed, but I couldn’t look away from our reflection. He said I was his light, but in truth, he was mine. Darkness had swallowed me, and even through my heroin-induced episodes and the horrible withdrawal afterward, it was the memory of him that had me hanging on to life.
Swallowed by the intensity in his eyes, I let myself drown in him. He teased my clit in two expert strokes, and I fell apart. I came undone with a throaty moan and would have collapsed if not for the way he held me, caressed me.
