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“You let him claim you. But,” he said carefully and my eyes snapped to his, “the only cock you cum for is mine.” He lay his hand over my throat again and a thrill ran through me. “Understood?”
Aside from the fact that I’d broken that rule already – more than once – I couldn’t find it in me to correct him. It was wrong on so many levels, but I wanted him to feel that possessive of me. I couldn’t help it. I’d tried to let him go and I just couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. Not yet.
“I don’t bow to you, Valk,” I told him, and his lips curled in an unbidden smirk.
Fuck, but he was sexy. All dark and dangerous, gorgeous and sinful, and with the singular ability to make me feel alive with nothing but a single look.
“I will have you on your knees,” he promised me.
“We’ll see who bows to who,” I told him.
Triumph lit his eyes and I felt it in my clit. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We will.”
He dragged his lips over my face, so close but just not quite touching me. I leaned towards him for a kiss, and he pulled his face just enough away that, with his hand on my throat, I couldn’t reach him. But somehow, I still felt the victorious grin at his lips.
“But my lord God is waiting on me tonight, love,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “And the good little princess needs to be locked away safe in her tower.”
I thrashed against his hold. “I will not be–”
He silenced me with the quickest kiss I’d ever had, then left his face just touching mine. “Just for tonight, love. Please.”
He’d said please. Was it bad that my instant instinct was to obey? I didn’t think it wise to let him in on that Harlow-hack.
“All right,” I answered begrudgingly. “But only for tonight.”
“Thank you.”
One more lightning quick kiss, then he was tapping my arse to get me going. I threw a questioning smirk back at him and he winked at me.
“Stay safe,” he told me sternly.
“Stay alive,” was my answer before hurrying to my room where, like a good girl, I made sure Florence was back and locked us in tight.
Chapter Eight
“Uh, can I help you?” I heard Florence ask while I was in the bathroom on Friday night.
The shower was already running, but I was looking for the bottle of conditioner I knew I’d squirrelled away in the cupboard under the sink.
“Okay,” she answered whoever it was. “And how long do you need? Ten-minute quickie? An hour? Just so I–”
“Get out,” I heard the unmistakable voice of Valen growl.
I tried standing up too quickly and hit the back of my head on the top of the cupboard.
“Ow!” I said pointedly and just a little too loudly.
The bathroom door crashed open. I whirled, landing on my butt on the cold bathroom floor, and looked up at the concerned features of Valen Kincaid. When he saw me, all concern was gone and all I saw was deep-seated lust.
I hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Valen since Wednesday. Apollo had kept him busy, and I’d been trying to work out whether I cared enough about my authority to wage full-on war with the Magdalens. All that totally flew out of the window at the sight of Valen in my bathroom.
Valen. In dark jeans, a white long-sleeved tee, and a black jacket. He was a walking wet dream, and he looked particularly large, intimidating, and utterly scalable – preferably with my tongue – from my position on the floor.
“You okay, Harlow?” Florence called.
I nodded, even though Valen was no doubt shielding me from her view. “Yeah,” I answered.
“Good. Great. Well, I have…absolutely nowhere else to be, so I’m going to go do that.”
