Page 68 of Monsters Wear Crowns
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a different black mask. This one covered everything but his eyes. The shift was instant. Gone was the man who flirted with control. What remained was cold, detached command.
My stomach tightened. Holy shit.
The couch dipped under his weight as he unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink loud in the thick silence. In his other hand, aknife, spinning lazily between his fingers like he’d done it a thousand times.
“Open,” he ordered.
I hesitated. My thighs pressed tighter together. Fear and arousal knotted together inside me, indistinguishable now.
With a sharp laugh, he forced my legs apart with his knee. I struggled beneath him, even if it were futile. His hand clamped around my throat, my breath seizing. His eyes, behind the mask, were cold and extremely focused.
“Last chance for the safeword, baby,” he said, his voice flat.
The air left my lungs. His control wrapped around me like chains. I said nothing. He tilted his head like a predator watching its prey. With a sudden, brutal motion, he ripped my panties down the center. The fabric tore easily in his hands, like it had never stood a chance.
I gasped, exposed. Powerless.
His fingers slid up my slit, finding me drenched. “You’resoakedfor me,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through the slick mess he’d made of me. “You don’t get to pretend anymore, Adela.” His voice was low, lethal. “This is who you are.Mine.Fucking made for me.”
I writhed under him, gasping as his fingers thrust deep–hard, fast, and goddamn merciless. My cry was strangled in my throat.
“You think I’ll let you livealoneafter this?” he growled, curling his fingers. “You think I’ll leave you in this penthouse with locks I can break in my fucking sleep?” Another thrust. My back arched, my moan choked and raw. “I’m done playing nice,” he said, voice tightening. “You belong with me. In my bed. In my house. Under my fucking protection.”
He drove his fingers in again, and my body tensed as pleasure barrelled through me.
“You think I care if you like it?” he whispered against my neck, biting down. “You’re coming with me whether you scream or not.”
My orgasm tore through me, violent and blinding. I sagged against the ropes, broken open. And still, his mouth was at my ear.
“No more games, love. You move in with me, or next time…” His lips brushed my throat. “I'll be rougher.” He squeezed my throat enough to steal my breath. My lashes fluttered, and for a second, all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.
“No,” I rasped, my voice barely there.
“You can still run,” he murmured, his thumb stroking the side of my neck, coaxing, taunting. “But we both know you won’t.”
I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded against his palm. He waited, giving me one last out before he wrecked me with his cock. It gave me a little comfort, knowing how much he cared about me. But I didn’t move. I didn’t take the out.
His lips curved behind the mask. “Good girl.”
The ropes burned as I struggled again, but it was useless.He had me.His hand tightened around my throat again, fingers digging into my flesh like a vice. His other hand dragged the blade up my inner thigh, the metal glinting wickedly in the dim light.
“Don’t you dare scream,” he commanded, his voice a low, menacing growl, finally letting go of my throat. I gasped, lungs burning as they filled with air. With one hand, Rafe greedily bunched my denim skirt up around my waist, the rough fabric scratching against my skin. He ripped my blouse open, buttons popping and scattering like tiny plastic hail. His eyes, dark and hungry, swept over my full breasts before he bent down and scraped his teeth along a nipple and bit down, the sensation a sharp, electric shock. I whimpered, the sound surprisingly pitiful and resembling fear.
He groaned against my breast, the vibration resonating through my chest as he pulled his cock from his black jeans, the sound of his zipper a harsh, metallic rasp.
I thrashed, my wrists still bound above my head, the rope chafing against my skin. He choked me again, his hand a brutal, rigid clamp around my throat.
“Stop,” he growled, the word a guttural warning, pullingback, aiming his blade between my thighs. Fear suddenly spiked.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered, my voice sounding small and pathetic, a mere shadow of myself. He spun the blade in his hand, the metal a blur of silver, and, without a word, rubbed the handle over my clit, the sensation a harsh, jarring jolt. My eyes rolled back, my body trembling, a traitor to my mind. My logical brain was firing off, trying desperately to convince me that the masked man between my legs was a threat, a danger, a predator.
And, well,he was.
But my body flooded with arousal when his head tilted, pushing the handle into my pussy. A choked sound left me, a mix of fear and pleasure.
“Don’t move,” he ground out, leaning over me to bite my nipple again. My mind spun, a whirlwind of chaos and confusion.
He was fucking me with the handle of his knife.It was all too much, and I struggled again but was stunned when I felt a sharp slap across my face, the impact a quick, stinging blow. My eyes widened at him, but he continued pumping the handle deeper inside.
