Page 83 of Blood and Thorns
He left me no choice.
“Sebastian,” she whispered. Fear, and something else darkening her tone. “You’re okay.”
I blinked, finding Arabella pressed further against the wall, pinned almost painfully with my weight. She gripped my wrist, nails digging in.
“You’re okay,” she repeated, her fingers moving to brushalong my arm, and I stilled beneath the touch. Fire thrummed in my blood, the anticipation of what she could possibly do to fight for her life tightening my muscles.
I didn’t usually feel this alive unless I was in the ring or expressing my darker side when it came to sex. Deviant tastes that I’d since grown bored with. Nothing other than violence seemed to quench my demons these days, feeding their bloodlust just so I could fucking sleep.
Until her. I needed to mark her. Own her.
Discover why the fuck I was so infatuated with a woman not made for my world.
Arabella’s fingers were light, tracing over my skin and brushing over my scars like she had the right to. Her lips pursed, so full and yet defiant in the face of my monster.
She seemed to have forgotten that I controlled her life in my hand, literally. Her pulse was violent against my palm, a little beat that revealed her sheer terror at the situation she’d found herself in.
She should be scared.
Using her throat, I pulled her against me, my lips sliding against hers until I could swallow her gasp. I bit and sucked, devouring her like I should’ve the first night.
I rarely kissed, finding the act unstimulating, but with her it was everything. The way she moaned and gripped me tighter. The way she tried to take control, fighting my dominance with little nips along my lips that had my cock aching.
My free hand slipped beneath her dress, rubbing between her legs to find the fabric already soaked. Pulling the underwear to the side, I thrusted two fingers into her roughly, her moan so delicious I caught it on my tongue. She was soaking wet, the slickness coating her thighs and dripping down my hand.
“Look how wet you get for me,” I growled, nipping along her jaw.
She groaned, and her cunt clenched at my words. Smirking against her skin, I used the heel of my palm to add pressure to her clit.
I could feel how close I could get her, knowing it could be almost painful when it was forced so quickly. But this was a punishment for making me crave her. To show her how little control she had over her body and how easily she gave herself to me.
Arabella’s hips rocked against my fingers, chasing a release to the very edge.
What a shame I wasn’t going to give it to her, not yet.
Chapter 37
Arabella
My core clenched, aching with the denial of my orgasm.
Bastard.
I’d never seen his eyes so dark, like the deepest, scariest parts of the ocean. He was truly terrifying, his jaw held so tight I could make out the veins popping on his neck.
His fingers softened on my throat, but not releasing as he held me there, forcing me on my toes with his head dipped close to mine. My lips felt swollen, and I wanted nothing more than to get lost in his kiss.
It was savage, a violent claiming of tongue and teeth. He was pushing all those nightmares that I saw darkening his eyes onto me, and I was letting him.
What could possibly give a man like Sebastian Devereaux nightmares?
Hesitantly, I reached up to touch his cheekbone, and the fingers that were just inside me gripped my wrist so hard I could swear my bones creaked.
“You really do like pushing,” he rasped, his voice a low growl that pulled my skin taut. “As if this is all a game.”
He released my wrist, only for those same fingers to pinch my nipple above the fabric of my dress, then immediatelycaress it with a soft brush. His touch was a total paradox, both sensual and rough. Like he barely held back his darker side.
I’d always been sensitive, but with him it was different. As if he forced me into survival mode, so I’d notice every little detail. Making every sensation heightened.
