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“Do it,” she said as if reading my thoughts. “Whatever you need to do. Just do it.” Her voice was drenched in uncertainty and regret, like all this time she thought she’d followed me on some noble expedition, and now, she wasn’t so sure.
Knowing she was uneasy only made my cock harder.
Did that make me a monster?
Maybe.
I wrapped one arm around her waist, splitting her robe open and splaying my fingers over her stomach. My lips hovered against her neck in that spot just below her ear. “You want me to fuck you, Little Rebel? Right here in front of all these men?”
Her chest heaved, and all I could think about was the way her tits would fit so perfectly in my hands. “If it gets us out of here.”
“I think you’re lying.” My hand crept lower, into her panties. Then lower. “I think you’ve wanted this since the first time I held a knife to your throat.” I grazed a finger along her smooth slit. So fucking wet, and it was all for me. “I think you want me to wreck your tight little cunt.” I placed the tip of the knife at the base of her throat. “I think you crave the darkness.”
She swallowed hard, making her throat bob against the blade. The hunger for her blood, for her fear, for her screams slithered into my thoughts like weeds, like the cobra I’d left in the last room. Fucking venom firing through my veins.
“Do it,” she gritted out, and my blood boiled.
I was in control.
Me.
Not her.
Not her mother. Not those men up on that fucking platform.
Me.
Her humility was mine to take.
I moved her robe to the side, yanked her panties off her ass and bent her over the altar. Fucking hell, her pussy was perfect. Bare, pink, and swollen lips glistening with need. My mouth watered for a taste, just one hit.
She was hungry and wanting even though she should be crying and afraid.
The chants grew quieter as the pulse pounding in my ears grew louder. Everything else faded into the background, and I only focused on her. The way her hands gripped the edge of the altar and her legs parted to give me room. I couldn’t see her face, but her eyes were dark with need.
She wanted this.
I pressed the blade against her neck, right by her collarbone, but something made me stop before I pierced her skin.
She reached up and placed her hand on top of mine. “I said, do it.” And then she pressed the blade into her skin, just enough to draw blood.
That one singular move turned me on more than anything. More than her fear. More than her submission. More than my revenge.
I freed my cock, then leaned over her. “I’m about to own you.” In one swift thrust, I shoved inside her, all the way to the root.
Her body jolted forward.
I pulled out, all but the tip, then slammed back in.
“Oh, God,” she cried out.
“Louder next time. I don’t think he can hear you.”
A gnawing hunger, a primal urge broke free from my black, twisted soul. I didn’t stop when she cried out again or when her knuckles turned white against the edge of the stone. I dropped the knife, then grabbed her hair, forcing her body up against mine. I trailed my hand over the blood on her chest, smearing it into her skin. Down her body, over her breast, then back up to her throat.
My fingers tightened around her neck, feeling every breath, every single heartbeat beneath my fingertips.
Fuck, she was tight. So goddamn tight. Like a glove custom made for my dick.
