AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thisis why you are more dangerous than the Winthorps and their army combined,” he murmurs, digging his fingers into my hips for emphasis. “You are reckless. Nothing is sacred to you. You’ll burn your enemies and yourself down in the same fucking blaze. Even the most sick, twisted bastards aren’t that cruel.”
An amusing thought comes to me, and I voice it near his ear. “Does that scare you?”
A harsh grunt catches in his throat. He sets me down but then captures my chin, forcing me to look up. His gaze bores through mine with a predatory accuracy. From this assault, there is no escape.
And I know now that his “game” has nothing at all to do with hide-and-seek.
“Look at me.” His irises darken, a piercing, unsettling shade of black. “Tell me… Tell me how it feels when I’m inside you.”
“W-what?” My cheeks catch fire at the crude request. Another sick joke? But no. His eyes are too open, meeting my probing stare unflinchingly.
“You heard me.” He wants an answer, and my throat rasps as I try to compile one.
“It feels like sex—”
“No.” His thumb swipes at my lower lip, dismissing the response. “Don’t play coy. You were upset last night—but you came tome. I want to know why.”
His expression shifts, and I catch a glimpse of the stranger I’ve only ever seen with Mouse. The exhausted man with shadows beneath his eyes. Worn lines distort the skin around his mouth, and his voice is so much clearer than the rough grumble I’m used to. Panicked, I realize it’s his most lethal weapon, this guttural hum.
“Tell me—”
“Too much.” I close my eyes against his judgment, but I can’t seem to make myself stop talking. “You feel too big. Like all you want to do is rip me open, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I…I don’t want to stop it…” I sway as his grip loosens. But bit by bit, it tightens again, drawing me closer.
“Why?” he demands. “Tell me.”
“When you kiss me… I can’t think. And I don’t want to.”
I doubt he understands just how dangerous an admission that is. In my entire life, my only saving grace was my ability to think. Override my body’s natural instincts. Endure.
Until now.
“It feels real,” I whisper, horrified. “I can’t ignore it. I can’t suppress it. What you do to me feels so damn real—”
Moist heat rips my voice from me. His mouth—I’ve memorized the shape. It conforms to mine like nothing else, designed to overpower and subdue. Claim. One teasing brush of his tongue and my thoughts empty of anything tangible. All I can do is cling to him, pawing at his shoulders for purchase.
I’m vaguely aware that he’s moving, backing me against the very same tree I attacked him from. Viciously, his hands sink into my hair, gripping tight as he draws back, breaking the kiss.
“I’ll give it to him,” he says, laughing in a broken, hollow series of grunts. “If you really are a skilled fucking spy—a trick… Then I have to hand it to him. I give in.” His eyes meet mine again, unfocused and crazed. Truly insane. “You’ve fucking done it. He’s won. I’m a pathetic fucking idiot. So here—” He grinds his pelvis into mine. “Savor your victory, Rose.”
Savor. I run my hands down his chest, the planes of it rippling beneath the thin layer of cotton. In the darkness, I can’t see the skin bared beneath as he wrenches it up over his head and tosses it aside. I have to feel every inch for myself.
Raw. Powerful. Broken and healed in some places, still wounded and sore in others. He lets me have my fill of tracing every inch of his armor. I barely even notice when his hands slip beneath my dress, ruthlessly turning the tables.
“You’re so damn wet.” He hisses that assessment even before his fingers dip between my legs, finding his boast to be true. “Youhaveto be a fucking trick,” he declares, breaching me with the pad of his thumb. “There’s no other way…”
He doesn’t elaborate. Once again, our conversation devolves into the unspoken. Grasping touches that convey more than words ever could. Slow, rasping breaths when he yanks his pants down and eases his way inside me.
My eyes flutter shut at the sensation.
“Tell me now,” he snarls into my neck. “Tell me.”
“You feel…”
He slows, panting against my throat. “Say it.” Impatient, he thrusts again, utilizing his body like a battering ram.
I’m no match for him. “You feel so good,” I whimper. “So, so good.”
He groans, forging a frantic rhythm within seconds. Savor my victory, he told me, but there’s no time. No chance. He overdoses me on his touch, taste—everything all at once.
“Beautiful Little Rose,” he taunts as I shatter. “You win. You win. But I’ll play your game: I’ll drag you down with me. I’ll destroy you—we’ll both go up in flames.”
And he breaks me, leaving me in pieces against the rough, unyielding bark.
But in the aftermath of him, I’ve never felt clearer.
And I’ve never felt more powerful.
