Page 117 of Jewel of the Assassin
He could be dying. Anton ultimately wouldn’t care. And I could see him letting any of his enemies use his corpse for sport.
So, I soften into the sheets. Anton commands me to look at him. The moment our eyes clash, he turns on the vibration. Fire jolts through my skin like quick bursts of lightning I didn’t know could exist. I start to buck and writhe, my body instinctively trying to expel them, but Anton holds them firm. The prongs cage my clit, stimulating every bit of inflamed flesh while the pulses resonate in my ass and pussy.
Roman would guide it with precision, to leave me both trembling and furious at how completely he’d own me.
Roman. Roman. Roman,I say his name again and again in my mind.
Anton? He just fucks me with it, hard and unrelenting.
He might force me to scream his name until I’m hoarse and the echoes through the manor fade. But he can’t ever take the screams inside my mind, screams for Roman.
His laugh rumbles low, vibrating against my ear as he presses it harder. My body betrays me. It’s exquisite, infuriating, horrifying.
“Fuck it back, girl.”
I do. I’m twisting and grinding against it, inner muscles finding the rhythm, squeezing, throbbing. He smiles, a predator’s smile. Because I’m close.
Anton attacks my breast again, tonguing my pebbled bud, then he closes his mouth with strong suction around one erect nipple and plucks at the other.
I come. I groan and scream his name over and over like he wants me to. My consent is shot to hell from the ecstasy exploding through me. I spiral through his goddamn hell, but before my hands can shove it away, another orgasm tears through me.
“Ohfuckfuckfuck!” I wail from the waves of hot bliss shooting into my system, crashing through my nerve endings.
Chuckling darkly, Anton removes the device, and I slump, my voice hoarse, my body slick with sweat. With a whimper, I curl myself into a ball, trying not to dwell on the pool of my fluids from where I squirted.
He sets the device on the table. No matter how hard I try to keep my chin tucked to my neck, Anton lifts it, wiping my tears with his thumbs, and cutting me with his gaze.
“Now,” I demand, burning my eyes against his. “Send him the doctor.”
His smile twists, and he cues up the digital chip in his arm, one with a security camera on the prison. I heave a sigh of relief from the doctor, the bandages, the bloody?—
—oh, God!
“Yes, you notice the time stamp, don’t you, moya nevesta. Tsk, tsk, tsk, it seems you and my brother are more alike in your poor bargaining power. Did you think I would truly let him die before our big day?”
He’d already sent the doctor, long before I agreed to his proposal.
“You’re a fucking monster,” I spit at him, nothing left but the hollow insult.
“Now, now, my wife. Let’s not go to bed angry.” He laughs and quickly rids himself of his clothing, climbing into the bed behind me.
I hiss from the contact with my wounds and elbow him in the ribs. But he growls against my ear. “No fighting. Or I’ll use the ropes and cuffs. I have a busy day tomorrow as more guests arrive, more business deals to broker. I’ve stationed my men all around the manor, but you may come and go as you please, Valentina.”
A ray of hope splinters through me. “What about the staff?”
“Oh, they have resumed their usual duties.” He scrapes his teeth along the side of my neck. “After all, I can’t have my guests starve and their laundry service stalled. Now, go to sleep.”
Too exhausted from everything, I lean into the hope of some way, somehow, we can free Roman. Zina, Roksana—Roman’s mother—Mikhail, the others, even Sasha. Because as soon as Roman is free, he will bring the bloodiest vengeance down on Anton’s head.
And I can’t wait to join him.
38
“Seems my bride needs to be taught a little lesson.”
ROMAN
Her scent drifts through the door.
