Page 67 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“I hate you,” I whispered. It came out ragged.
Rafe’s lips curled against my skin, his breath warm as he chuckled. “You hate how much you want me right now.”
Damn him.Because he wasright. Every inch of me washummingwith tension, torn between shoving him off and pulling him closer. He made mecrazy–this unhinged, controlling man I never should have let into my life. But when his hand slipped lower, skimming the curve of my waist, my resolvesnapped.
“You think this proves your point?” I hissed. “That I’m not safe here? Scaring me like this?”
His fingers pressed into my skin. “No, my love.” The words were soft, almost tender. “But it proves you need me.”
My eyes narrowed. He was so fucked for doing this. What an asshole.
He watched me with that sharp, ice-blue gaze. “And Ipromise you,” he went on, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “No one else will ever get this close again.”
Before I could fire back, his mouthcrashedagainst mine. I gasped against his lips, but he didn’t ease up. Heshovedme down, my back nowflushwith the couch, his weight pressing into me, his grip tightening. My wrists ached where he pinned them into the cushion, but the ache only made mehyper-awareof how completely at his mercy I was. I shifted, testing the bonds.
Rafenoticed, and hesmirked. “Youlikethis,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, dragging over my skin like velvet and steel.
I didn’t answer. Icouldn’t. Not when my breath was already coming too fast, my pulse hammering in a frantic, erratic rhythm. My silenceamusedhim.
He leaned in, eyes locked on mine, as his fingers trailed up my bare thigh. “Youshouldbe afraid, Dela,” he murmured.
“I’m not,” I whispered.
A lie.
Because the fear wasthere, coiled deep in my stomach. And that only made the pleasuresharper.
He hummed, a dark, knowing sound, his hand sliding higher. “No?” His fingers tightened to the point of pain,and I gasped.
“I–” The word broke off into a sharp inhale as he leaned in, his mouth brushing the curve of my throat, his teeth scrapingjustenough to leave a sting.
“Do you know what I could do to you like this?” he whispered against my skin. “Bound. Helpless.”
The breath left my lungs in a trembling exhale. My pulse throbbed in my ears. Every inch of me was burning, wired, alive.
“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”
I should’ve said no. But my thighs pressed together instinctively, desperate for friction. My body already betrayed me–eager, trembling, and soaked. The ropes bit into my wrists as I shifted, and Rafe noticed.
He alwaysnoticed.
He chuckled darkly, dragging his lips along my jaw. “You hate how much you want me,” he murmured. “I see it in your eyes. The fear. The desire.” His grip flexed, his mouth brushing my ear. “You love how fucked up this is.”
“I don’t–”
He caught my chin, hard. Forced me to look at him. His grip was unforgiving. “Lie to me again...” His voice dipped, filthy. “I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll beg me to stop.” A pause. A wicked grin.
My breath stuttered. I was drowning in him, in the danger, in the primal roughness no one else had dared show me. And I didn’t want to come up for air.
“Do your worst,” I whispered, but my voice shook.
His eyes flashed, pleased and predatory. “Oh, baby.” His fingers slid between my legs. “I intend to.” The ropes seared my wrists with every twitch, reminders that I was fully his in this moment–a plaything beneath the beast. A sacrifice to the wolf.
He moved slow, torturously slow. Every stroke of his fingers skirted where I needed him most, teasing, denying, building a maddening ache inside me. I pulled at the ropes, not to get free, but to feel the burn. I hated him for making me want this. I loved him for knowing exactly what I needed.
Rafe’s eyes were glued to my struggle, something feral awakening behind them. He liked me like this. Bound. Gasping. Weak.
And...I liked it too.
