Page 103 of The Beast Who Begged Me

I let his legs settle around my hips and reach between us for his cock. My balls tighten as I stroke him in time with my thrusts, and he keens, high and desperate.

I bury myself in him and come, shuddering. For a moment, I forget what I’m about to do.

His own orgasm is impressively loud. He spills over my hand and his stomach, and I stroke him through it. Then I bring my hand to my mouth and lick my fingers clean while he watches with half-closed eyes.

He looks exactly as wrecked as I wanted him to be.

I pull out, and he makes a small, discontented noise. I kiss him before easing away.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper. “Don’t move.”

He just nods, looking dazed and half-asleep already. I slide off the bed, grabbing my clothes as quietly as I can.

I don’t have time to feel guilty. That’s what I tell myself.

I’ve got Sammy to find, and Caligula will be safe while I do it. He can hate me when I get back. I can live with that. I’ve lived with it before.

I’ll keep him fed and warm and alive.

If I break faith with you, may my soul burn.

It comes back in my own voice. I taste the bread in my mouth, the oil, feel his hand in mine. He made the others witness it. Gave me a place beside him and made sure no one could pretend I hadn’t earned it.

And I’m going to thank him by locking him up again. Making him my prisoner. Taking away everything he’s fought for…

I cross to the door and lift my hand, my finger hovering above the dark little square. He doesn’t get a say once I lock him in here. That’s what I was really buying with this safe room: an end to the argument.

I should stop pretending. I know what a terrible betrayal this is, and I still want to do it so badly that my hand shakes.

He forgave me. He let me touch him again, sleep beside him, swear myself to him. If I do this, I’ll destroy everything.

I search for the part of me that knows how to do terrible things, that knows how to finish the job, but all I can hear is myself making that fucking promise.

I meant it.

I still mean it, even now that keeping it might cost me him.

I lower my hand. For a moment I stand there, breathing, then turn back to the bed.

Caligula is watching me. His eyes are clear, his face quiet, and there’s no surprise in it at all.

“I was going to lock you in.” It comes out before he can say anything, and once I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I waited until I thought you were asleep so I could walk out and lock the door.”

Caligula stays propped on his elbow, those golden eyes steady on mine. “I know,” he says. “I’ve known since you took me in here.”

I stare at him. “And you came in anyway?”

“Yes.” He sits up, the ring catching the light as he wraps his arms around his knees. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

“You wanted to—” I break off, outraged, and I have to stop myself from shouting at him for letting me do the very thing I planned.

I feel sick.

He watches me struggle with it for another moment, then holds out his hand. “Come here, Dami.”

I go, because apparently I can do as I’m told. He takes my hand between both of his.

“I never should’ve brought you in here.” My voice sounds wrong.