Page 41 of The Dove
“What’s more real than this?” he murmured, reaching down to stroke his fingers down her spine. “You, me, every dark desire you’ve ever suppressed and tried to pretend not to feel. It is the realest things you’ve ever felt, little dove. It’s the realest thing there is.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as much as her position would allow. “I hate you … do you know that?I hate you!”
“I do not require you to love me,” he retorted. “Only for you to submit … to admit that you are mine.”
Raising his hand for one last blow, he brought the leather down with a rough grunt, leaning down to cover her mouth just as her lips parted on a scream. She howled against his palm, jerking and writhing beneath him, unable to move the way she wanted with her body contorted and bound.
The moment he pulled his hand away, she gave him what he wanted.
“Yours,” she whispered weakly, defeated at last. “I am yours … even when I don’t want to be.”
He sighed with relief and lowered his hand, letting the leather unwind from around his knuckles and fall to the bed. Bending down, he kissed one of her tortured buttocks, producing a sharp hiss from her.
“Such a good little dove,” he whispered against her reddened skin, brushing his lips over the curve of her arse and down the back of one thigh. “I did not want to push things that far, but you forced my hand. But it’s what you wanted, Daphne, I know it is. For me to break you, tear you apart. It’s what you’ve wanted from the first time we laid eyes on each other. It’s all right to admit it. No one else will hear you … only me.”
“Yes,” she wept, groaning and panting as he lapped at her swollen, wet cunt, his tongue swirling around her clit. “Yes … Adam!”
The sweet music of his name on her lips almost proved his end—there was no sound he liked more. But he was not finished yet. Not until she pleaded and begged.
He took his time tasting her, smoothing his hands over the hot skin he’d just punished, his tongue gently teasing her in juxtaposition. She rocked against him as much as her position allowed, riding his tongue, filling his mouth with her heady, feminine taste. He could spend hours savoring her, teasing her with languid strokes of his tongue. But, as she shivered and moaned into the counterpane, he knew that it would not be enough. He’d already fucked her mouth, but his little dove needed more … and then more. She needed him to fill her in every way possible, to own her, give her the things she’d never dare to ask for out loud.
“Is this how you want me, little dove?” he teased between gentle tugs on her clit with his lips.
“No … yes … I-I don’t know,” she stammered.
He chuckled. “Aye, you do. How about this, little dove … do you want this?”
She gasped when he sank a finger into her, then another. Squirming and writhing at his fingertips, she soaked the digits in her juices. And still, her moans held a hint of frustration. It wasn’t enough … would not be enough after he’d pushed her so far.
“M-more,” she whispered.
He kissed the back of her thigh again in acquiescence, giving her a third finger, twisting and curling them to reach the places deep inside, the places that made her toes curl.
“Like this?” he murmured against her skin, teasing her with more kisses, more laps of his tongue while his fingers worked in and out of her.
She was truly gone now, beyond her reticence and beyond her hatred for him, when she spoke the words he’d been waiting for since the moment he’d thrown her onto the bed.
“Take me, Adam,” she panted. “I am yours … just … please, I need …”
She seemed incapable of naming her need—but then, he’d never required her to. Coming up onto his knees, he positioned himself behind her, swiftly reaching out to untie the tasseled cords from her wrists and ankles. She fell onto her belly, and he went down on top of her, nudging his cock into the snug cleft created by her closed legs. She was tighter this way, the squeeze of her sheath around him almost painful as he impaled her.
“Is this what you need, little dove?” he growled into her ear, one hand pressing her head into the mattress, tangling in her hair, the other bracing him over her, bearing most of his weight. “My cock, filling you, stretching you?”
“Yes,” she moaned into the bedclothes, fingers clutching the damask counterpane, twisting and bunching the fabric as he rode her.
He caught sight of that goddamn ring again—the sapphire glittering in the lamplight and taunting him, tormenting him. Gritting his teeth, he rammed her harder, reaching as deep into her as he could go, attempting to obliterate Robert from every corner of her mind, heart, and soul. She’d loved him once … he knew that. Perhaps a part of her still did. And despite not wanting or needing her love, the thought infuriated him, prodded at the possessive beast inside him that wanted to demand every piece of her … even if he had done nothing to earn it.
He pulled out of her abruptly, and she gasped, arching her spine and thrusting her arse against his pelvis, attempting to take him back in. Cruel laughter spilled from him as he swiftly turned her onto her back, wanting her to see his face, the look in his eyes when he staked his claim.
He shoved her legs wide and lunged between them, slipping back into her wet sheath. She welcomed him, arms coming around him, fingers pulling at his hair, nails raking down his back. The sting of her gouging him set him on fire, the heat of her cunt around him turning his blood to liquid fire. He gritted his teeth and rotated his hips, angling his pelvis so that he stimulated her clit with each stroke.
Propping himself up over her, he reached out with one hand to clutch her throat, his fingers finding the veins thrumming with her pulse. Her eyes widened, her face flushing and her lips parting in anticipation of what she knew would come next—the oblivion no one could give her like he could.
“I will kill him,” he rasped, pressing his lips against hers as he compressed those veins ever so slightly—just enough to make her heart beat faster, to make her pupils dilate and her breath hitch. “Do you hear me, little dove? If you give yourself to him inanyway … I will fucking murder him. I will squeeze the life out of him with my bare hands while you watch, and then I’ll fuck you beside his corpse. He cannot have you … he willneverhave you.”
He closed his fingers, cutting off her air supply and giving her everything he had. Her thighs would be sore in the morning, but he wanted that … wanted her to carry him with her, to feel him long after he had pulled out of her. He held her gaze, watched the tumultuous build of emotions, pleasure, and pain welling up in her eyes, compressed in her veins and beating a cadence of pure desire against his fingers. He pressed harder, his own breath coming in ragged pants as he fed off the fear he saw in her eyes, the short moment of doubt she experienced as she wondered whether he would let go or strangle her in a jealous rage.
He waited until he felt the first flutters of her climax, her body trembling violently beneath him, before he released her.
