Page 218 of The Poison Daughter
He places his hand on my stomach and peers through the trees around us. “This is my wife and my claimed. If anyone so much as looks at her in a way I don’t like, I will kill them slowly.”
I can barely keep my eyes open.
Henry carefully wraps me in his cloak and gathers me into his arms.
My head lolls against his chest. “You’re one of the Drained.”
“I’m not, but I’ll explain in the morning. I took a lot of blood. You need rest.”
I want to fight, but I can’t. My eyelids are too heavy. I fade in and out of consciousness as he carries me toward the manor.
When I wake again, Henry is placing me back on my feet on the plush carpet of our shared bathroom. I swat his hands away, and he retreats to give me a moment to myself.
I stare into the mirror at my face. My eyes are puffy, my cheeks flushed, and my chest marred with scratches from the dirt and branches. I splash cold water on my face and take care of my needs, then look longingly through the open door to my room at my bed. I want to sleep, but I need to clean the filth from my skin first, and the tub is already full of steaming water that would help my sore muscles.
Henry taps on the door behind me and enters.
He’s already naked as he peels his cloak from my body. Then, he helps me into the steaming bathtub and climbs in behind me, ignoring my protests.
“You’re too tired to be in here alone. Now, be quiet and let me clean you up.”
My mind is still hazy with a mixture of lust, anger, and fatigue. Questions bounce around my head, but I don’t know where to start.
Henry washes my hair with surprising gentleness, then scrubs the dirt and crusted blood from my skin. He presses his fingers to my pulse for a quiet moment.
“I didn’t take as much as I thought, but you should still take it easy, Harlow.”
I hate him so much, yet I still want him to touch me. I lean back against him and sigh as his hands travel down my neck and shoulders. He cups my right breast, and I arch back into him.
One caress and I’m awake, lit from within, aching for him again.
“You need rest,” he murmurs in my ear.
But I don’t want rest. I want a place to put all my anger. I want my power back.
50
HENRY
Harlow turns quickly, sending water sloshing over the lip of the bathtub as she straddles me. One hand thrusts into my hair, yanking my head back. Then, she’s kissing me, and all of my good intentions of letting her go to sleep are gone. I should be helping her recover from a very intense experience, but I have been in control too long, and now that I’ve tasted her, it’s all I want to do.
She bites my lip hard and scrapes her fingernails over my scalp.
“I hope you’re ready for what you started, Harlow.”
She presses a hand to my chest and shoves me back. Then, she reaches between us and wraps her hand around my cock, giving it a hard stroke. She repeats the movement a few more times, rubbing her thumb over the tip, studying my reactions.
Then, with almost no warning, she guides my cock inside her and sinks down with a moan.
I have to be careful. This frenzy can get very out of control when she has venom in her system, and I can’t keep her up all night fucking her on every surface in our rooms because I need her to be able to walk tomorrow.
She moves tentatively, rolling her hips and wincing when she sinks down again.
“Sore?”
She must be. I have not fucked someone that hard—ever.
But Harlow bites her lip and arches her back as she starts to ride me in earnest. In this position, her full breasts are thrust forward, bouncing with each movement, and I feel the distinct prickle of anticipation in the air. She wants me to bite her again.
