Dance of Deception

Chapter 19

19

LYRA

The words hang in the air between us, thick and heavy, sinking into my skin like ink.

I don’t know if it’s a command or a challenge. Both, maybe.

I should laugh. I should scoff. I should roll my eyes and tell him he’s insane. But I don't do any of those.

“I—I don’t understand,” I whisper, though the pounding of my pulse betrays me.

Liar. I understand exactly what he means.

I’m just not sure I can admit it to myself.

Carmine smiles darkly. “Yes, you do. You’re going to run. And I’m going to chase you.” He steps right into my personal space, looming over me. “And then catch you .”

A dark, needy pull throbs inside me. I try to shove it down and ignore the heat curling in my belly, but it’s useless.

“What happens when you catch me?” I whisper, fear and something else I don’t want to name coursing through my veins.

His eyes gleam. His hand—the unbloodied one, thankfully—reaches up to cup my jaw. His thumb runs across my lips before it slips past them into my mouth.

I shiver as he presses down on my tongue, stroking it with his thumb as my lips automatically close around it. A dark grin curls his lips as he slowly eases his thumb in and out of my mouth.

“When I catch you,” he murmurs quietly, his voice curling around me like smoke. “I’m going to fuck you , little dancer.”

Holy shit.

A war rages within me. My rational mind screams that this is wrong, that I should be disgusted, that I should run and never look back. But the dark, twisted part of me—the part Carmine sees so clearly —wants to see how far he’ll go. How far I’ll let him.

I try to tell myself that it's wrong for me to want this, get excited about it. This isn't normal. My depraved, immoral desires that Carmine so easily sinks his claws into aren't normal .

They're still there, though, lurking under the surface. It’s like he can smell them.

Can I really lose my virginity like this?

Carmine tilts his head, almost like he can hear the battle in my mind. “You can run,” he growls, tracing his thumb over my lower lip again. “Or not, and I’ll simply take you right here. But if you run, you can at least tell yourself you tried to get away.”

A single second stretches between us like an eternity. Then, before I can second-guess myself?—

I whirl, and I bolt.

My feet pound the marble floors as I tear through the library and out the door, my wedding dress a tangle of silk and lace around my legs. My breath comes fast and sharp, every inhalation searing my lungs.

Behind me, there’s no frantic pursuit.

Just slow, measured steps.

A predator in no hurry to end the hunt.

I don’t look back. I can’t.

I round a corner sharply, my fingers grazing the wall for balance. The branching hallways stretch before me, dim and endless, lined with tall doors and gilded mirrors that reflect my panicky expression back at me.

I need to hide.

Another turn. My wedding dress catches on the corner of a table, yanking me back. I let out a sharp gasp and wrench free, the beautiful, delicate lace tearing as I stumble forward.

There’s a whisper of movement behind me.

A hand grabs my waist.

I shriek, twisting, slapping vainly at the iron grip that holds me. But Carmine is stronger, faster. His fingers dig into my hip as he spins me around, slamming me against the wall.

My chest is heaving. His lips curve in amusement, dark eyes gleaming. “Too slow, little dancer.”

I bring my knee up, aiming for his balls, but he dodges at the last second and I catch his thigh instead. He grunts, his grip loosening.

I wrench away and run .

The hallway twists ahead of me, a staircase looming at the end.

I take the steps two at a time, my dress a torn ruin, my breath ragged, my muscles screaming.

A hand wraps around my ankle like iron.

I let out a strangled cry as I’m pulled back, my kneecap banging over the steps as Carmine drags me down, pain and adrenaline tangling in my veins. I twist, kicking, clawing.

My body slams down the stairs with bruising force. My vision blurs from the impact, my breath stuttering as Carmine is suddenly over me, pinning me to the floor with his weight. His grip is firm, his body pressing into mine just enough to remind me how much bigger and stronger he is. One hand is on my chest, the other shoving my dress up, his fingers curling around the fabric possessively.

“Caught you,” he murmurs, dark satisfaction in his voice.

Hot, wild rage sparks inside me. I slap him hard across the face, my palm cracking against his cheek. His head snaps to the side from the impact.

For a long breath, nothing moves.

“Feral little thing, aren't you,” he murmurs.

His palm collides with my cheek, sending a searing jolt through me.

It should enrage me. But instead heat surges in its wake, my breath ragged from the vicious thrill of it.

I don’t stop to think. I claw at him, nails raking over his chest and over the still-bleeding wound. He growls, his grip loosening just enough.

I tear myself free, scrambling to my feet, my dress torn and bloody from where his cut smeared against me. My muscles scream in protest, but I run.

Blindly.

I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to put as much distance between us as possible. The mansion stretches out in an unfamiliar maze, doors and corridors blurring as I surge forward.

A second staircase looms. Without thinking, I take it, hurtling down the steps in a desperate bid for freedom.

I shove open the doors at the bottom and stagger down the hall, through a set of double doors into?—

The fucking library.

The fire still crackling in the hearth. The room is exactly as I left it.

I whirl, chest heaving as I head for the opposite door?—

I never make it.

Carmine grabs me from behind, his arms around me like steel. I thrash, trying to twist free, but his grip is unrelenting.

I crash to the floor with a choked gasp, the force knocking the breath from my lungs.

Carmine is on me in an instant, pinning me face-down, his hands caging me in, his breath hot against my cheek.

“You tried, little dancer,” he murmurs darkly. “But we both knew how this would end.”

I claw at the thick rug beneath me, trying to push myself up. But Carmine is still pressing me down, his weight unyielding, his body locking me in place, daring me to keep fighting.

Which I do.

Still face-down, I jerk violently, kicking out, trying to catch his ribs, his legs, anything. I reach back, my nails scraping at his arms. It only seems to amuse him. He catches one of my wrists, then the other, yanking them behind my back and pinning them together with one brutal hand.

“Still fighting?” he breathes savagely. “That’s good. Keep fighting.”

He leans down, his lips by my ear.

“ I like it when you fight me. ”

His free hand skims over my back, his fingers taking hold of the shredded bodice of my dress before ripping the last of it away, the sound sharp and final in the quiet of the library. I feel air against my bare skin, bucking beneath him, and he lets out a low, approving growl.

I jerk my head back, trying to catch him off guard, but he’s already anticipated the move and shifted his grip. His fingers tangle in my hair and he yanks, arching my neck even more. His teeth scrape my jaw, the bite just shy of painful, sending a white-hot bolt of something forbidden down my spine.

“Let me go,” I pant, struggling in his iron grip.

Carmine chuckles. “No.”

I twist again, this time managing to throw him off balance. His grip loosens for a fraction of a second, and I seize my chance. I wrench myself free, shoving up onto my hands and knees, scrambling forward?—

He’s faster.

I don’t make it two feet before his arms lock around my waist and he slams me back to the ground again. The breath leaves my lungs in a rush as he pins me down, his hands gripping my wrists, his weight heavy on me.

My chest heaves, my skin burning where his fingers dig into my flesh. I cry out when he grabs a fist of my hair, twisting my head around, forcing me to look at him. He’s breathing hard too, his lips parted, his pupils dilated.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, his breath fanning against my cheek. “You're lying to yourself, little dancer. You keep running, but you don’t really want to get away…do you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He lets go of one of my wrists and grabs a fistful of my ripped wedding gown. He yanks it up over my bare thighs, then up to my waist.

Suddenly, I feel the sharp crack of his palm slapping my ass. I let out a strangled sound, a mix of fury and something far more dangerous.

Needy. Wild. Explosive, and wrong .

I shove at the floor, trying to gain some space, but it only makes him push harder, his hips pressing into mine, his fingers going to my wrists again.

“Go on,” he taunts. “ Fight me .”

I do. I twist. I claw. I kick one of my heels up and back, barely missing the vulnerable space between his legs. He lets out a savage cry, catching my leg, forcing it back down.

His mouth is at my throat again, his teeth scraping my skin, his breath hot and uneven. “Who knew I’d married such an eager little fuck toy ,” he snarls into my neck.

I shake my head, gasping as his teeth sink in harder, not quite breaking the skin, yet marking, claiming.

“I am not ,” I seethe. Even as I say it, my body betrays me, arching into him, my pulse hammering against his lips.

Carmine’s gaze is scorching as it meets mine. “ Liar .”

His palm crashes against the soft skin of my ass again, bringing a cry to my lips and a shiver to my core. I tremble, writhing under him, my pulse spiking when I feel him suddenly grab the back of my thong.

Oh fuck…

I bite back a moan as he tugs, forcing it tighter between my legs. The sweet friction of the lace against my clit has my chest hitching and my pulse skipping as wetness soaks the fabric. Carmine growls, tugging on the thong again before suddenly, his muscles jerk.

I cry out when I feel the lace tear away from me. I can feel it dragging over my slickness before my eyes suddenly bulge when he shoves it against my lips. I open my mouth to cry out, and he stuffs my ruined panties into it.

Then I hear the jangle of his belt.

The tug of his zipper.

Then the hot, throbbing, huge feeling of his thick cock, heavy and swollen against my ass.

“Mmm, fuck ,” Carmine groans, stroking his dick against my ass and rolling his hips slowly, savoring the sensation. “You’re shaking, baby. Is that from fear, or because you already know you’re going to let me break you apart and put you back together again—over and over…"

A low whimper has drool soaking into my panties as I feel him ease the fat, swollen head of his cock between my legs. He shoves a knee between them, prying them wider apart.

His cock runs over my pussy lips.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby. You’re dripping and desperate, like you need my cock inside you more than you need to breathe."

I hate how right he is. I should be afraid. I am afraid. But fear and pleasure are starting to feel the same.

His strength terrifies me. His control undoes me. I tell myself this is wrong, that I should be fighting harder—but my body betrays me again.

I hate how much I need him to take me, to ruin me, to make me his.

"This is mine now,” he growls.

I whimper, my body tightening up as I feel his thick head push between my lips, right at my opening.

“This tight, dripping little cunt belongs to me , and I’m going to fuck it like it’s the only thing I need to survive. So be a good girl, Lyra,” he growls, leaning over me, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair as his hips tense. “ And take every inch of me like a good little cock slut. ”

He rams through my virginity with one brutal thrust, and even gagged, my scream rips down the walls.

At first, all I know is the pain tearing into me. The sheer ruthlessness of it sucks the air from my lungs and sends my head reeling. But as that first abrupt feeling of penetration recedes, another sensation takes its place.

Wild.

Unhinged and untethered.

It has me whimpering into the panties stuffed between my lips, my body coiling and writhing as I adjust to the sheer size of him.

It hurts. God , it hurts. But somewhere behind the ache, the raw stretch of him inside me, pleasure ignites, deep and needy. My body shouldn’t crave this, shouldn’t welcome this, but the moment pain melts into heat, there’s no turning back.

His teeth sink sharply into my throat, and the sting sends a wicked, molten pulse straight between my legs. The agony of him stretching me open morphs into something I need —I’d beg for it if I wasn’t gagged.

Carmine saws out of me, and I cry out into the lace as I feel my lips clinging to him so needily. He fucks into me again, his hips and abs slapping loudly against my ass as he thrusts deep. His hands keep me right where I am, one twisted in my hair, the other possessively on my hip by my torn wedding dress.

Every ruthless, bruising thrust should break me. Leave me in ruins. But all it does is drive me closer to the edge, to that sharp, unbearable bliss.

Pleasure is pain. Pain is pleasure. And somewhere between the two, I break —and never want to be put back together again.

"You’re taking me so fucking deep, baby,” he growls in my ear as he leans over me, his hips rolling as he buries his fat cock inside me over and over. “Like you want every inch of my cock in you forever."

His palm slaps my ass again, sending heat exploding over my skin before the same hand quickly snakes underneath me. His fingers pinch and roll my clit, and I cry out as my body violently squirms and twists against him.

"Feel that?” he groans into my ear. “How fucking tight you are around me? Your cunt knows I own it now. It likes being used by me.”

His teeth graze my earlobe before he suddenly bites down, hard.

"So wet for me. So fucking greedy. You can fight all you want, but this perfect little pussy is begging to be wrecked.”

Carmine groans loudly in pleasure, not holding anything back. His hips crash into mine, his fingers still underneath me, rubbing my clit mercilessly as he fucks me into the floor. My torn wedding dress slips off me, and my bare, aching nipples drag electrically against the carpet as Carmine’s thick cock pounds into me.

My reality begins to blur. The harder and rougher he is, the deeper I sink into my own depravity. The more he brutalizes me, the more the pressure builds, until I realize there’s nothing on this fucking Earth that will stop the release that’s about to explode through me.

"You’re going to come all over my big dick, aren’t you? So fucking desperate for cock you don’t even care how rough I am."

Slam .

He rails into me, forcing the breath from my lungs as my eyes roll back.

"There’s no escape, Lyra. No running now. You belong here—under me, pussy stretched around my cock, screaming my name. Don’t you dare close your legs. Keep them wide open and take it like a good girl ."

Slam .

Drool soaks the panties stuffed between my lips. My legs begin to shake. Explosive fire catches deep in my core, spreading like napalm through my veins as my whole world shifts on its axis.

"I told you I’d break you. And now you’re going to thank me for it by having that pretty little cunt squeeze every drop out of me. Be a good girl and fucking come for me, baby.”

His hips ram into me, punctuating every word.

“Come. For. Me. Right. Fucking. NOW .”

The pleasure is coiled so unbearably tight that when it snaps, it’s not a release—it’s an obliteration. My entire body shatters, breaking apart and reforming around the pulsing, insane ecstasy that consumes me whole.

The orgasm slams through me so hard my vision blurs. Every muscle seizes around him, milking the cum from him, demanding more and more even as pleasure detonates inside me, stealing my breath.

It’s almost too much—too strong, too intense—and I sob through it, my body convulsing as he drives me over the edge again and again. My body clenches around him like it never wants to let go, every scrap of pleasure tightening, squeezing, wrecking me completely.

With a loud, roaring cry, Carmine buries himself inside me. His cock throbs and twitches, and I melt when I feel the powerful ropes of hot cum spill into me, pumping me so full that I can feel it leaking out from where we join.

I can feel his touch everywhere—his teeth on my throat, his fingers in my skin, the weight of his thick cock inside me.

I should feel shame.

But all I feel is his —wrecked, taken, consumed by the man who just broke me open and put me back together.