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“With Dimitri, somewhere. I didn’t ask.” He sounds like he’d rather not talk about that anymore. “Don’t leave.”
I don’t want to leave as much as I do. I want him to throw me on his bed and pin me to it, fucking me until I can’t even move, let alone think of running from him. And I know that’s wrong, which is why I’m doing this.
“I have to.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He snaps. “I told you that once before.”
Yeah, before we killed a man and then fucked with his blood drying on our flesh.
“I want to leave.” I tell him, trying again.
His lips twist into a smirk. “I don’t believe you.”
“What’s the point of me staying? So that we can tear each other apart for a few more weeks? If you want me dead, you’d better hurry up and do it. Your poison is too slow, too unreliable. You held a gun out to me and told me if I wanted to shoot you, I’d better not miss. This is my equivalent. If you don’t want me to walk away from you, you’re going to have to kill me.”
I don’t blink or even hesitate when I give him my ultimatum. But neither does he. “Killing you isn’t the only way to keep you here.” Remy brings his mouth to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. His lips brush mine with every motion they make as he whispers against them. “I could tell my sister you left and tie you up in the guest house. I have an empty cellar now that Wes is gone.”
My breath hitches at that. I know I’m not supposed to like that idea, not supposed to be burning for him to follow through on that promise. “I could tape your pretty lips so you can’t scream.”
“Remy…” I’m pretty sure the lips he’s speaking about are quivering, desperate for his kiss.
“I could give you the world.” His voice sounds different at that one, and when my eyes snap up to his, he looks as though he didn’t actually mean for that to slip out. But now that it’s said, he can’t take it back, so he doubles down. “Fuck, Claire. I would do it to keep you from walking away right now.”
I close my eyes because I can’t bear to see him right now as he makes promises he doesn’t intend to keep. I guess the chaos must feel as good to him as it does to me because he’s desperate to hold onto it. He can have any woman he wants, so why is he holding so tightly to me?
“I can’t do this.”
“You can do anything.” He assures me, his voice silk and velvet and everything delicious. His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, parting it from the top, and I open my eyes just in time to see him looking at me like he’s going to absolutely devour me. “And you can have everything. Just stay.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to fight him, because he crushes his mouth to mine and sweeps me against him, tugging me into his room. I hear the door shut behind me, but I can’t focus on anything other than the adrenaline racing through my veins, the hedonistic pleasure, and the crashing pain that I know will follow. “Remy…” His name is a plea on my lips, but I’m not sure what I’m asking him for.
He swallows it regardless, consuming me with his kiss as his hands trail down my sides, dipping into the waistband of the shorts I’d changed into as soon as we got back upstairs. My breath hitches in anticipation, my body going weak with submission.
I’m on my back on his bed in the next instant, parallel with the headboard, his body pressing into mine, his lips on mine so fervently that my lips are starting to go numb and my head feels dizzy. He doesn’t give me a chance to get air. He’s taking from me now, like maybe if he takes everything I have, I’ll have no reason to go. “Remy.” I tangle my fingers in his hair as he feasts on my flesh, trailing hot kisses down my neck before shoving my shirt out of his way so he can continue uninterrupted down my stomach. I’m hanging just off the edge of the bed, and he retreats to the floor. His mouth is just above my hips when he pulls my shorts and panties from me in a single move, not even bothering to free my ankle before pushing my thighs apart and spreading me with his tongue. This time, he feasts on something far more carnal, and all of my reservations, all of my resolve and reason go out the window.
I’m a helpless mess when it comes to him, and I can’t even bother to be embarrassed by it right now. The part of me that needs him is primal, so deeply ingrained that I’m not sure my attraction to him was ever a choice. It’s like my body was made for him to control, to pleasure, to take his own pleasure from. We fit so good in this way.
“You belong to me, Claire.” His hot breath whispers over my aching core, and I open my eyes to see him looking at me from between my legs. “I don’t care who’s been here before. I don’t care if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Because your body knows. Look at how you melt for me. Look at how I’m on my knees for you. Any man or monster who has ever tried to claim you has been lying to themselves, because no one will ever crave you the way I do.”
“Remy, I…”
My voice fades away as he dives back in, pulling me into him.
He eats my pussy like a starving man desperate to live another day, and it quickly reduces me to nothing. I’m inconsequential as the orgasm builds and makes everything else cease to matter, my desperation for what he does to me (with his tongue and without it) taking over every cell in my body. I’m wound so tight that when I come, every muscle inside of me simultaneously clenches, waiting for the anticipation to end. When it does, I fall apart from a great height, pleasure and relief flooding my limbs in violent waves that threaten to tear me under like the one in the ocean. And they continue to pull at me without ceasing as he holds tight to me, refusing to let go even as I try to freefall into the pleasure.
Gasping, I do my best to pull away, unable to take anymore. I can’t even form a coherent thought, let alone a word, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. “Rem—”
He doesn’t slow, and I almost wonder if he didn’t hear me.
Pain turns sometimes to pleasure, and pleasure can similarly turn to pain as he keeps me splayed before him, sucking my swollen clit into his mouth so hard that every muscle in my body has locked, agonizingly stuck as fire works its way through my veins, a second orgasm threatening even as the overstimulation turns painful. Tears are building in my eyes, and my stomach is cramped so hard I can’t reach up to grab his hair, so I bend to the side, yanking a fistful of it between my fingers. That, at last, seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in, and he looks up to see me. When he releases me, it feels like he's let me out of a trance, my back falling flat against the mattress as I work to breathe in enough air to send the oxygen to the parts of me that feel they’ve been cut off from circulation.
“Stay,” he says, as if I’m capable of movement anyway. I hear the whoosh as his pants fall to the floor, and then he lines himself up with me, locking his fingers in mine before pushing into me and burying himself all the way inside. His mouth crashes over top of mine, and I can taste myself on him when his tongue slides against my own. It’s a wicked combination, his mouth and mine, our need tangling so that I don’t know where his ends and mine begins. I’m not even sure where he ends, and I begin. And I don’t care, because he drives me into the bed with the force of his thrusts, stoking something deep inside of me. The angle makes him feel deeper than any of the other times we’ve done this.
“Tell me you’re mine.” He pants, his words sweet in my ear. “Tell me you’ll stay.”
“I’m yours.” I moan, pretty sure I’d agree to anything in the moment. But I won’t tell him I’ll stay. I can’t do that to him… or me.
“Tell me you don’t need anything else.” He begs, thrusting into me with a new pace that makes it impossible to form a word. Which is convenient, because I just moan as he lifts my ass, giving him more access to me. “Tell me…”
