Page 35 of Crown of Thorns
“Wha-one.”
He slaps my other cheek.
“Two.”
He slaps my upper thigh.
“Three.”
My other thigh.
“Four.”
Again and again, he rains his heavy palm down over my ass and thighs until the burn is replaced with something… heavier.
And just when I expect another, he thrusts two blunt fingers inside me, curling them to hit the hidden spot that I’ve come to crave. And I scream as I come.
I feel absolutely drained as tears drip down my cheeks, unsure of what just happened, but before I can get my bearings, Rhys lifts me off of his lap and drapes me over his desk so that I’m facing away from him.
“Such a lovely ass, hen, reddened from my palm,” he says as he strokes my stinging skin with his hands. “And such a lovely cunt, swollen and dripping with your cum for me.”
I hate that he makes me feel humiliated and angry and aroused all at the same time. I want to hurt him the way that he’s hurt me.
“If I’m the dutiful wife who serves her king,” I ask as I hear the clank of the buckle on his leather belt. “Then what are you?”
“The king who fucks his queen until she screams,” he growls just before he savagely thrusts into me. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
I claw my nails at his historic desk. “Rhys—” I gasp.
“I would do anything for you,” he snarls as he drives deep inside of me. “I would give you anything.”
“I don’t want anything,” I pant as he thrusts harder and harder again and again.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want you!” I scream. “I just want you!”
“You have me, hen,” he bites out as picture frames and gold pens fall over and rattle about as the desk scratches across the floor.
“Yes,” I pant.
“I need you to come, hen.”
“I am,” I cry out as he plunges his cock faster and faster.
“Then scream the name of your king as you choke his fat cock with your tight cunt,” he snarls.
And I do just that.
“Rhys!”
“Again. Louder,” he demands.
“Rhys!”
“Whose cunt is this?”
“Yours!” I sob as the climax rolls on and on.
