Page 36 of The Villain
“I will never beg you,” she ground out from between clenched teeth, even as he rubbed his pelvis against her, filling her mind with all manner of erotic thoughts—imaginings of all the things he could do to her with that cock.
“Perhaps not,” he relented, letting go of her hair and spinning her to face him.
His eyes glittered like brilliant gold in the light of the sun, green prisms appearing in the depths, an unmistakably predatory gleam radiating at her with destructive promise.
“But it does not matter in the end,” he reminded her. “I fully intend to take what I want. Whether you fight me, or give in and let yourself enjoy it, is not my concern.”
Raising her chin defiantly, she met his gaze silently, determined not to be defeated, to let him force her to feel things she did not wish to feel. He was wrong about her—she didnotwant what he threatened her with, the pain or the defilement. She did not want a monster in her bed, laying claim to her body, filling her with his poison.
Even if her body practically sang in response to his touch.
Taking hold of her shoulder, he pushed, commanding her to her knees without a word.
“Will you give me what I am due, or will you force me to take it from you?” he asked, staring down at her from his position of dominance.
He seemed larger this way, his shadow blotting out the sun, his thick, sinewy legs spread to either side of her, his big body trapping her against the stone side of the cistern. The hard ridge of his cock showed against the front of his breeches, straining toward her against the fabric. Remembering the feel of the large organ in her hands, both hard and soft, made her throat constrict.
“You won our wager fair and square,” she declared, tearing her gaze away from his prick and forcing herself to look up into his eyes. “I am a woman of my word.”
He nodded, his rigid frame relaxing a bit, the muscles that had coiled to spring and attack unwinding. Reaching down to grasp her arm, he trailed his hand along the limb until finding her hand. With a tight grip on her wrist, he urged it toward the fall of his breeches, laying her hand flat against him. She sucked in a sharp gasp, the heat of him radiating through the fabric setting her palm on fire. The organ leapt in response to her touch, seeming to fairly pulse with raw power and masculinity. He grunted, pumping his hips and grinding his cock against her palm, rubbing himself against her.
Then, releasing her hand, he let his arms fall to his sides, gazing expectantly down at her. “Take it out.”
She hastened to obey, not wanting to make this any harder upon herself than necessary. If she pleased him, perhaps he would be kinder to her in the future, more likely to exercise care when taking her maidenhead. Steadying her shaking hands, she swiftly opened the fall of his breeches, revealing his cock inch by inch. It sprang free after she’d finished unbuttoning him, the absence of smallclothes allowing it to practically fall into her hands. It was just as menacing as she remembered, swollen and straining toward her, gone nearly purple at the tip from the blood filling and stretching it to near impossible proportions. Yet again, she found herself wondering how it would ever fit without tearing her in two once he finally decided to claim her.
Sparing a glance up at Adam, she found him watching her impassively, his expression betraying nothing. He took a step closer to her, forcing her to lean her head against the stone well, crowding her vision with the sight of his prick jutting out from the confines of his clothes and the thatch of dark hair blanketing his groin. His bollocks hung heavy and full between thighs made like tree trunks—all sinews and bulging muscle. His scent made her head spin, his unique musk mingling with the aromas of cedar and cigar smoke that seemed to always cling to his skin.
“Take me in your hand,” he snapped, impatience edging his voice.
She quickly obeyed, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, her hand just barely enclosing his entire width. He gritted his teeth and thrust into the opening of her hand, his seed welling up in the slit of his head. Despite the hard, angry length of him pulsating in her grip, he did not seem affected by her touch, his face remaining as expressionless as ever.
“Both hands,” he rasped, his voice coming out rough and shaky.
She smirked, giving him her other hand, the evidence of his lust now beginning to show through his mask of indifference. He grunted when she enclosed him with her second hand, slowly surging his hips to create friction between them. His cock seemed to grow and swell with each thrust, the plump veins throbbing with each beat of his heart. He added his hand to hers, tightening her grip and showing her the rhythm he wanted. His breaths came out in harsh pants, his eyes sliding closed as he helped her pump him, their hands moving in tandem over the hard ridge of his prick.
Staring down at her from beneath lowered eyelids, he released her hands. “Your mouth, little dove … fuck me with that pretty little mouth.”
Dropping her hands, she gathered the courage to do what he instructed. What if she was horrible at it? What if he became annoyed with her for not knowing what she was about and found some other way to satisfy his urgings instead?
Fear only held her back for so long, the realization that making him wait might prove the greater offense prompting her into movement. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his flared head, tentatively kissing him. He held perfectly still, even the sound of his breathing dissipating as he seemed to wait, anticipating what she might do next.
Opening her mouth, she flicked her tongue at him, surprised at the taste of him. The bit of seed that fell onto her tongue proved wild and primitive—what she must assume constituted the taste of pure, rawmale. Slightly salty, slightly sweet, completely and wholly masculine. She lapped at him again, this time dipping her tongue into the slit. He made a little sound in the back of his throat that made her skin tingle and emboldened her. Exploring him more with her tongue, she circled the tip, then stroked the underside, licking down to the base, then slowly working her way back up.
He was breathing again, the harsh sound sawing in and out of his parted lips, chest heaving as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. She took him between her lips, instinct driving her to suck him, moving her mouth over him the same way she had with her hands. Adam trembled, one hand shooting out to grip the edge of the cistern.
“More,” he growled, thrusting his hips at her face and urging his cock deeper into her mouth. “Take more.”
Breathing through her nose, she closed her eyes and obeyed, tightening her lips around him while stroking the underside of his cock with her tongue.
“Aye, little dove … just like that,” he urged, finding a steady rhythm in her mouth as she took to it easily, urged on by the low grunts and swift breaths he seemed unable to keep quiet.
His words lit a fire in her belly, its tendrils licking at her cunt, sparking a longing only he could fulfill. Her empty channel clenched with need, her breasts tightening at the tips.
Muttering an oath, he took hold of her hair with his other hand and surged even deeper, sending his tip to the back of her throat. He groaned, even as she choked, rearing away from him and fighting to breathe.
His fingers tightened around her braid until her eyes watered, and he thrust at her mouth relentlessly.
“Take it all,” he ground out before shoving her head back down onto his length.
