Page 70 of A Betrothal So Bloody

I hesitate, my breath slowing as my fingertips dance over his bare shoulders uncertainly. If we were locked in battle, I would have a dozen different ways to react—I wouldn’t even need to stop and think. But this…

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m not sure how to…” My eyes flick to his, face flushing deeper.

Understanding floods his expression. “It’s alright. Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Feeling silly at first, I let my hands wander over his muscular chest, down his abs, then back up to his shoulders. With more certainty, I squeeze the hard-earned muscle. When his eyes go half-lidded, savoring my touch, I relax. In return, his calloused hand palms my left breast and squeezes, massaging it. I squeak as he plucks my nipple into a rigid bump. His breathing turns ragged as he surveys his work, and then he ducks his head and sucks.

A sharp inhale tears out of me, my back arching like I’ve been pulled up by a thread. His tongue swirls over my nipple, hot and needy, teeth playing on the sensitive skin—all of it so fierce, I wonder if he won’t lose himself and really take a bite out of me somewhere.

The moment he surfaces with a little pop, I surge upward, gripping him tightly in unspoken desperation. I kiss his chest, his shoulders—each press of my lips a moment of tender worship. When I reach the base of his neck where a fluttering pulse should have lived, I pause, inhaling him. The scent of his skin is drugging. I brush my lips down the strong column of his throat, savoring the way he leans into me. Then, I bite down until I hear a hiss of pain from him.

“Vicious as ever,” Dante says, voice low and coarse. “When I could snap you in half.”

“Shut up,” I pant.

He buries me in another kiss, one hand sliding to my throat as he guides me into place. His fingers lock firmly, holding me down.

A shiver of pleasure seizes through my spine and tingles down my legs, making my hips buck. A gasp flies past my lips.

Dante freezes. “Oh.” Wickedness threads his voice, like a cat spying a mouse. “You like that?”

I nod, giving a strangled assent.

His teeth flash as he chuckles. “I shouldn’t be surprised, my little slayer. You don’t just want pleasure, do you? You want penance. You want to suffer for things you haven’t even done.”

He applies more pressure, and my airflow is significantly reduced. He leans in, lips brushing above my ear.

“Yes, you love being collared like this, don’t you?” His deep, husky voice makes my hands clench tighter on his shoulders. “You love belonging to me.”

All I can manage is a choked noise.

He makes me wait, drawing out the seconds, letting my hips squirm beneath his. I’ve been struck enough in my life to know his pressure has to be so carefully calculated, just short of bruising. He won’t hurt me, but I am flooded with the overwhelming awareness that he can. His searing lust for me is the only thing standing between me and an early grave.

And the painstaking care under which he forces me to fight for a full breath is making me so damnably wet.

I dig my nails into his shoulders. Dante moans, muscles twitching in response. His reaction only provokes me into clawing deeper.

When he releases my throat, my first breath is sweetly painful.

Touching one of his shoulders, he clucks his tongue. “Bad girl.”

My nails have marred his shoulders with little half-moons. Suddenly, I understand his sick joy in leaving fang marks upon me. For hours to come, a piece of me will be left behind as evidence upon his perfect body.

“I could have gouged you to the bone if you held on a bit longer.” My voice is still raspy. I touch my throat. “Feeling merciful?”

“I’ll be good tonight,” he answers. “Next time, I’ll make you beg. But tonight… I can’t wait any longer.”

His attention hones in on my lower body, and a wave of self-consciousness floods me. No one has ever seen my naked body like this before. No one. I can’t help but wonder how I compare to his past partners; if they’d been fitter, better groomed down there, more experienced. The latter is almost certainly true.

Oh God, there had to have been hundreds of partners before me. How can I possibly compare? It shouldn’t matter, but vulnerability knots my stomach all the same, and I clamp my knees together on reflex when his touch strays past my hip.

“Don’t,” he hushes. Kneeling at my feet, Dante nudges my legs back apart. “You’re beautiful. Every goddamn inch of you.”