Page 87 of A Betrothal So Bloody

I chuckle, short of breath. “Which is it? You can’t have it both—” My voice tapers into a yelp when he winds back and slaps my rear with an open palm.

It’s a quick, white-hot sting, and Dante seems determined to make the sensation linger, roughly massaging where he struck. Shaking, I peek back, eyes widening when he allows me a glimpse of the red handprint visible on my bare skin.

Swallowing hard, I face the tree as pleasure strikes up my thighs like lightning. “Dante, can you…”

He kisses my shoulder. “Anything, darling.”

“Can you…hit me harder?”

He exhales delightedly like I’ve given him a gift. “With pleasure.”

This time, I squeeze my eyes shut and can’t know when it’s coming. When he strikes with enough force to send my hips against the tree, a scream rips past my lips before I abruptly halt it.

As I bite my lower lip and gasp through my teeth, Dante squeezes me. “You’re holding back.”

“Force of habit,” I croak.

“Why?”

“Because…” The admission wobbles precariously—such a weak response in itself would warrant a scolding. “Because taking punishment without a sound makes for a better soldier.”

He scoffs, though not unkindly. “You don’t need to prove your strength. Not here.” As he tenses for another slap, and I brace myself. “Free that lovely voice of yours and scream for me, stellina. Let it reach the edges of this damned forest if it must.”

Pushing past years of training, I allow my cry to ring out with unforgivable volume. I beg Dante for another—and another—until my throat is raw with its own sweet, unbridled pain.

After his final blow, I nearly slump, but he keeps me straight. Every inch of me is going to be sore at this rate—and I cannot think of anything more exhilarating.

But he isn’t done.

“Hands up here,” he says, tugging my wrists up by my head on the tree.

“Always so demanding,” I tease hoarsely.

“That’s because I know what I want,” he counters. His voice drops to a sultry murmur. “To worship you. To ensure that every spark of pleasure you feel until the end of your days makes you think of me.”

Dante runs his hands down my back again, his touch still cool against my burning skin. I shiver as his hands clutch at my hips, firmly bracing me.

“Do you still trust me?” he whispers.

“Mm… Well enough.”

He gives a dark snort of laughter, pressing into me.

The tip of his erection glides along my entrance insatiably—a movement that only accentuates how sick I am, to be this dripping already. My fingers smart against the bark as I grate them against the rough surface, gasping with the realization of what he intends.

”Here? Like this?” I utter.

Our position is starkly different from last night—not cushioned on a soft mattress, but standing, facing away from him. I crane my neck to catch his gaze. Dante offers a soft, though thoroughly amused smile at my wide eyes.

“Your education is incomplete. There are many ways to be had.” He pulls my hair over my other shoulder, kissing the bare skin. His voice is in my ear. “Is this what you want? I’m yours to command.”

His teeth graze my skin now, followed by the gentle prick of his fangs along the chosen spot on my neck where he has marked me before, not quite piercing.

I’m prepared to give him a full-chested yes when I hear a fluttering noise from the canopy overhead. Blinking, I look up and freeze when I spot glimpses of gossamer wings among the branches. I clamp a mortified hand over my mouth. If not for Dante keeping me grounded, I might have fled with the instinct to cover myself at once.

“Oh shit! How long have they been there?” I hiss.

I jerk in his arms, but they tighten, steadying me. Dante seizes the hand from beside my mouth and repositions it on the tree—as though the sky itself falling upon us could not deter him.