Page 95 of Dishonored

Take it.

Fuck it like you want it.

And breathe and scream for me.

She was a mess by then. Arms and legs she couldn’t control—nerves that felt on fire. She thought he fucked a lot like he just was. Uncontrollable, and unpredictable. A little too wild for his own good, and always with the intent to get what he wanted in the end.

She came again.

And then a third time.

Aria expected him to pull out, and paint her back with his come. Or to turn her over, and get her to finish him off like he had before. He didn’t—bare, and deep, and hard … he filled her full, and she felt every fucking drop.

She didn’t care; despite every effort her husband had tried to use to get her pregnant, she had the means and the ability to keep exactly that from happening. For as long as she wanted or needed.

“Jesus Christ,” Caesar uttered through shuddering breaths.

It edged along her skin.

Sharp like a razor.

Soft like a kiss.

Still hard inside her, and with shaky hands holding her down against the bed, Caesar said, “I have to kill you to get what I want—it’s the deal I made.”

Aria stared at the bright sunlight filtering in through the window. “And what is it you want?”

“Not to be tossed away—not to be married to someone else.”

“Is that all?” she asked.

“I don’t think I want to keep being broken.”

Her emotions tipped.

Her heart raced.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Nothing seemed simple or easy.

Not with this man.

Not like he was.

“Are you going to do it, then?” she asked. “Kill me to get what you want, I mean.”

“I’m trying to figure out another way.”

Yes.

She could tell.

Because this was dangerous, now.

It was always dangerous when hearts got involved.

“How long is he going to make you hide out here?” he asked.