Page 70 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
I asked him for this, but the brutality of my oh-so-charming prince is more intense than I expected. His hand shifts, pushing my hair out of my face. When he does, my throat is laid bare before him.
Tawny eyes gleam as he takes in my scar. He runs his fingers through the trail of blood on his chest, his eyes never leaving my throat. A smile crawls over his handsome features. It’s my first glimpse at the dark thing he hides. I knew it. Iknewit.
He reaches for the scar. I flinch. His smile grows. “Did someone hurt you, Princess?”
Firm fingers close in around my neck. The movement elicits the first charge of emotion I’ve felt. Fear. My knees are pushed wide as he pulls out and re-angles himself against my entrance. His hips piston forward, filling me, pressing into those deep hidden places. Pain spikes inside me.
“Are they the ones who first broke you?” He bottoms out in me; the sensation wrings a choked sound from my throat. “Did you moan for them like you will for me?”
This isn’t like being with Harrow. Even when he was at his roughest, it was always for my benefit. Every move he made was carefully chosen to ensure I received as much pleasure as physically possible. This? This isn’t for me. Cassius is lost in his physical bliss. A dark bliss. I almost speak up. The reminder that I asked for this quiets me.
What if I say something and embarrass him? Why am I even worried about his embarrassment when I’m the one so uncomfortable? Discomfort is better than numbness so I keep my mouth shut.
He strokes my throat again. I try to shove his hand away but his other hand pins my wrists above my head. I struggle in vain as he fixates on the mark, fingering the raised flesh. His pace is brutal. He lays more of his weight on me and pistons his hips. My back arches as much as it can in the confined space between his muscled body and the unforgiving floor.
His mouth hovers above my ear. “What, no witty remarks? No stubborn orders? Have I found a way to quiet your loose tongue?”
I part my lips, ready to spit venom. Cassius removes his hand from around my throat and shoves three fingers in my mouth, hooking them behind my lower jaw. “No. I like you quiet.”
He pulls out his cock to the tip before spearing me to the hilt. The fullness is intensified by the way he stills himself once he’s all the way inside me. My body tightens.
“Hmm. You don’t look quite broken to me. What will it take to shatter you?”
Drool spills from my mouth. I can’t swallow it back. He has my jaw wrenched wide. Tears pool in my eyes as my mouth burns.
“That’s perfect. Give me your tears. I want you crying when you come for me.”
I don’t expect to be able to come. This encounter is violent, unpredictable. Just as I consider telling him as much, he reaches a hand between my thighs, stroking my clit and shifting his hips. I move my own hips, trying to break the contact. If his hand wasn’t filling my mouth, I would tell him not to touch me there. It’s too personal. More feelings and sensations fill me, splashing against the walls of my inner well.
They don’t feel the way I want them to. This isn’t about pleasure. Cassius is forcing me to come. It’s out of my control once that area has been stimulated. The new angle, the rough strokes of his fingers against my sensitive nerve endings. Pressure builds. How easily I’m controlled by a spot the size of a fucking lentil.
The realization that I’m about to come under these circumstance splinters the door holding the rest of my emotions closed. They fall, tumbling out and battling for supremacy. I’m dizzy with the sudden surge. Adrenaline, fear, lust, agony all brew within me, a vile cocktail. For one moment, I’m grateful the feelings have returned. Then, the negative ones kick in, the ones I don’t want to handle or face. Shameful, that’s what this is. If I come now, while being treated this way, what will that say about me?
I decide to fight back, not wanting to give in to this game. I’m not this person, am I? Is it me who hides the dark fantasies so well? Am I turned on, excited by this?You’re disgusting, my inner self chides. I scream around his fingers, kicking my legs and fighting his hold on my wrists. Cassius laughs, the sound a cold, wicked thing. His pressure and pace adjust until my struggling turns to writhing.
He’s too rough with my clit. His fingers pressing too hard and still the feeling builds. I try to ignore the sensation, the way he’shijacking my pleasure instead of feeding it. There’s no passion in what he’s doing, only possession. Power over pleasure. It’s not what I want. I thought it was, but I was numb. Now that I can feel again, it all feels wrong.
My body breaks of its own volition. A sob spills around his fingers as the orgasm tears through me. Fighting it is useless. My muscles cramp until I give in to the release. Tears stream down my cheeks, mixing with the spit spilling from my still-open mouth. Crying makes me feel even more dirty and disgusting. The pleasure zinging through my core overrides the pain for a few seconds. Euphoria sweeps through me. The climactic wave is short-lived. Momentary bliss is not enough to hide my shame or shield me from my bottomless grief. It’s not enough to cover up the sadness destroying my heart and soul. Maybe I preferred to be numb. I don’t know anymore.
Cassius removes his hand from my mouth, using it to wipe my tears.
“Beautiful and broken.” His mouth finds mine, but the heat isn’t there. I feel like I’m turning inward.
Cassius comes then, filling me. Heat pulses as warm ropes of cum flood my deepest parts. His grunts are harsh against my ear. The weight of his muscle-filled frame sinks down onto me as his climax subsides.
Some amount of time passes. Enough for me to start noting the patterns in the wood on the ceiling. The planks have dark rings, making them look like they have eyes. I’m being watched by the trees whose lives were stolen to make this cottage. They’ll keep my secret now. What else have they seen in this forgotten cabin, hidden away from the world?
More time clicks by. I fear Cassius may have fallen asleep. My body hurts everywhere his weight is pressing down too hard. I wiggle beneath him.
Raising his head, he peers down at me with a sheepish expression. He sits up, bringing me with him. He lifts me and sets me gently on the bed. Slowly… sweetly. Prince Chivalrous Cassius is back.
I can’t deny the guilt I feel for finding release with someone who isn’t Harrow. I’m attracted to Cassius. Of course I am. It’s not like Harrow and I are even technically together. My thumb finds a loose piece of skin on my index finger. What would Harrow think if he knew how I’d let Cassius treat me? More shame settles in my gut like a wriggling fish. Despite my anger with him earlier, I would have given anything for Harrow to be the one who swept me away to a cottage. Even if I had asked him to be rough, this encounter would have gone differently. I wouldn’t have felt so… gross afterward. I’m positive of that.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us. Cassius clears his throat.
“I’m sorry, that was too much. I got carried away.” He combs his hands through his auburn hair, sighing.
I move up to the head of the bed, rubbing the sore spots on my arms where his fingers left their mark. The trail of dried blood along his chest catches my eye. He might be right. It may have been too much. I’ll never admit that. “No, you did exactly what I asked for. Don’t overthink it.” I give him a smile that I hope looks genuine. At least I’ve stopped crying. Still, I am a little shaken up.Don’t be a baby, Lenore. He only did what you asked.
