Page 93 of Dishonored

Aria laughed softly. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Caesar. I do—quite a bit.”

“That’s my point. How? I just … sex isn’t sex for me,” Caesar admitted quietly, staring blankly at the ceiling. “There’s always had to be something underlying to it, maybe. Or maybe it’s just women that make me feel like that. They’ve always got something up their sleeve, and I would much rather hurt them first before they get to me. Or shit …”

“Prove all women are the same?” Aria asked.

His gaze cut to her.

Silence thickened the air in the room.

“It’s not hard to figure out that’s what you do, Caesar,” she told him, shrugging her naked shoulders. “Sex is your weapon. You said it, not me. It’s the why that makes me curious.”

“Because that’s what I was taught.”

Aria frowned. “What?”

“I was taught very young by someone who had no business putting their hands on me that sex was just another weapon to hurt people. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s easy. Maybe it gets me off in some ways, and maybe I just want to ruin people like I was because making things dirty like me is what feels good. Like the shame I can’t wash off, well they can’t get me off, either.”

“Does it?”

“What?”

“Feel good,” she clarified.

Caesar sighed. “This is why I don’t talk in bed unless it’s to tell someone to shut the fuck up and swallow my dick.”

Aria glanced over at him. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know if it feels good—I say it does.”

“But?”

“Don’t shrink my head, Aria. Suck my dick. Climb on for a ride. Let me fuck your ass while I gag you, or tie you up. Anything else. But not this. Everything else is easy, and this is all the things I never want to talk about.”

Point taken.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were barely out of Aria’s mouth before Caesar had rolled on top of her. Every dark, fractured, confusing part of him clouded her vision, and took up all of her space. Her ability to take in a proper breath was gone with the first kiss he slammed down on her mouth—a bruising, violent kiss that left her lips tingling and swollen. But damn her if she didn’t love it. It was his fingers curving around her throat that made her wet between her legs, though.

Well, that and his already hard cock grinding against her bare pussy.

“Don’t ever apologize to me,” he muttered against her lips.

“Ever?”

“I don’t deserve it.”

His other hand snaked between their bodies, then, and Aria couldn’t help herself when she felt his knuckles graze against her sex. She widened her legs for him—just like the whore her husband liked to claim her to be. She opened for another man, and she took every single inch of his cock in.

And she did it with a smile and a moan.

Because fuck, he felt good.

And damn, he filled her so well.

Christ, he made her ache.

“Shit, you need to relax,” Caesar grunted. “So fucking tight.”