Chapter 22 Briella #2
“The doctor, got it. But really?” I turn my chin a little, keeping my eyes closed from the shampoo. “Rory is the cook?”
Jude gives a breathy laugh. “He’s actually pretty good. Great venison stews. Fish and chips. Mean Scotch pies. And lots of good bread.”
“Bet I could take him in a beer bread competition.”
Jude slowly turns me around, cups each side of my neck, and softly tilts my head back to rinse out the shampoo. “You like to bake?”
“Mmmhmm,” I hum. “And garden.”
He pauses, but I can’t open my eyes to see his expression. But he starts washing again, his voice low and soothing, “We all try with the hoop house, but the most we can grow are potatoes, carrots, and cabbage. Some spinach. And tomatoes during the summer. You’ll be a perfect addition, Babydoll.”
I stiffen. But for a fleeting moment, I wonder: would they…build me a greenhouse? My very own greenhouse?
Ugh! No! If I don’t find some way out, I’m going to be here forever—and end up in that pit again. They will never let me leave, will they? For all I know, they could take me to their sex dungeon and use me whenever they want, however they want.
Once the shampoo has rinsed from my hair, Jude tilts my head forward. I open my eyes through the water streaming down my face. God, he is so gorgeous. Criminally gorgeous.
Raphael’s beauty is like a blade: sharp, commanding, possessive. He looks at me like he already owns every breath I take. Jude, though? Jude looks at me like I’m something to be guarded, something worth saving.
Raphael’s touch claims, Jude’s touch heals.
Raphael consumes, Jude preserves.
I part my lips just as he dives for the kiss.
He levels my insides with his mouth possessing mine, his hand claiming my throat.
His fingers don’t need to dig in. Not when his mouth traps me here.
Desire burns between us. And I can’t seem to come up with a million different reasons why this is so fucked up.
I was already fucked up before I met them.
But they make me feel like the right kind of fucked up.
A fucked up where I belong. I don’t believe in redemption, especially not with them.
The dark hell of the initiation they put me through will always be a scar, one that binds us all together in a trauma bond as sick as a girl falling for her slasher even as he’s cutting her to pieces.
Five days of worship. The only reason I’m not trying to escape yet. I’ll test them. But it won’t be the beginning of atonement.
Restitution from them. Retribution from me.
But I’ll go easiest on Jude.
Especially when he kisses me like this. A wicked pleasure, sinful in every way, Jude has style and finesse.
With every soft bite, every aggressive sucking, tongue tangling with mine, I melt into him more.
Hot pleasure has my center clenching. I don’t know how I can be so sore but still want to be filled.
Especially after…it was my first time, down there.
I lost my dignity and innocence in all other ways but my pussy since I was sixteen.
And more. So much more.
As I drag the flat of my tongue against his, a deep groan vibrates along my lips. He kisses me harder, feeding on me. I’ve lost track of how many times my stomach has flipped, somersaulted right into a lake of warm water. My trembling hands lift to touch his abs. All his muscles flex.
Mouth still on mine, Jude reaches above me and turns the shower knob until the water is a mere trickle.
He pauses, pulling back to stare down at me, dark eyes heady with hunger, the kind that hypnotizes and paralyzes me in the same breath. Deeply hooded, their intensity is like a slow-moving storm, promising ruin. His lips—God, those lips—sinfully full, made for devouring. Even his nose is perfect.
And how could I forget the unbelievably sharp cut of his cheekbones to his strong jaw? The jaw looks like it was sculpted by obsession.
Water clings to his lustrous dark skin, gliding down all his slabbed ridges.
Warmer in this light, rich and deep as dusk.
He doesn’t stop me from tracing the deep-cut lines of his Adonis belt.
A hot ache fills my whole body. Veins pulse beneath his skin, thick and throbbing along his arms. I was gazing at him so much, I didn’t even notice his arms had trapped me against the shower wall, hands stationed on each side of me. His shadow overthrows me.
“Briella,” he says in such a husky voice, forehead brushing mine, I almost drop to my knees right here and now.
His chest heaves. He shifts his hips closer, reintroducing me to his steely length. It lies hard but still against my belly, unmoving with a master level of control.
God, he’s built for strength, for holding and never letting go. And right now, all that power, all that sheer perfection, is focused entirely on me. I’m flush against him. Can’t fathom how this beautiful, dark tower of a man is really…mine.
Don’t think like that. Not for a moment. They can throw you away whenever they want.
Then, he reaches for something off to the side. A soft luffa sponge and an unlabeled bottle. “My own blend with lavender,” he explains. “Arms up, Babydoll. Let me see every mark on your skin so I may rewrite them with my healing poetry.”
Shit. I’m convinced my heart just melted, surging bliss and heat everywhere. He pulls in a breath, his chiseled nostrils flaring.
“I-I don’t know if I can,” I admit, since my arms are still weak from the other night, my wrists still red and chafed.
“Give me your hands,” he commands with one predatory gaze.
I slip them into his palm, and then he rips all my breath away by thrusting them above my head and holding them there. Luffa sponge brushing my palms while his other hand undoes the unlabeled bottle cap.
I suck in a deep breath. “You don’t need to—”
“I know what my woman needs,” he growls, and my whole body shivers.
I purse my lips as he applies the lavender soap to my wrists first, luffa caressing my skin as his eyes stroke every inch of me, exploring, appreciating.
It took five years of deconstruction to get me to body acceptance after a lifetime of brainwashing.
Women’s bodies are temptations, especially mine.
It didn’t belong to me. It belonged to my future husband.
My hair made me a curiosity and a pariah.
Every single behavior, every little action was monitored, an opportunity for new punishments.
Something as small as collecting herbs, caring for a stray cat, or taking off my stockings to sink my bare feet into Easthaven Creek.
Dangerous, full birthing hips. Plumper breasts that tempted men to sin. A pert, heart-shaped ass. No. Not birthing hips. Not anymore.
Jude strokes the luffa across every teeth mark, every stripe, every welt, and my body comes alive. He takes no prisoners with my breasts, but my nipples still stiffen. Every caress feels divine. Divine torture.
If this is what sin feels like, I’ll take hell any day.
“Fuck, you’re breathtaking,” Jude says as he rubs the luffa along my stomach and lower.
“And you’re beautiful.”
I clamp my mouth shut, realizing I said it out loud. Jude’s hand freezes at my nether curls. Every muscle in his body bulges. My blood rips so alive in me, I wonder if it will tear right through my pores to weep before the man before me. No, not a man. A god. All gods.
Can I truly be their goddess?
Jude chucks the luffa to the floor. He lifts me, stealing my breath and pushing his body between my legs until I squeeze my thighs around his waist. Fire and ice burst through me.
He still doesn’t let go of my wrists. One feral gaze is all I get before his mouth crashes against mine.
I moan again and again as he kisses me and grinds his cock against my pelvis.
I can barely move. He holds me here with his power and hunger.
After slapping the wall once, twice, Jude cups my breast, thumbing my nipple. I throw my head back and gasp. It’s sensitive, still red and swollen, but…when he pauses, I shake my head and plead, “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.”
His lips roam along the side of my neck, raining down kiss after kiss until he arrives at my breast, still holding the base when he wraps his lips around the erect bud. I gasp again, arching my back to give him more. I’d touch him everywhere if I could, but one hand still cages my wrists.
“You’re the most exquisite woman I’ve ever met,” he says before taking my other nipple in his mouth. “Inside and out.” His cock throbs against my belly. And I’m like a writhing cat in heat, demanding more.
Desperation jolts through me when he lifts his head from my breast, touches his lips to my ear, and peels back wet strands from my face so he may look into my eyes. “Tell me to stop.”
“Wh-why?” I tremble beneath him, our heartbeats pounding together. His chest rubs my breasts as he grinds that damn nine-inch dick against me.
“Because I am a goddamn doctor, and I must tell you how medically wrong it would be for me to fill you when you require healing. I’ll ruin you, Babydoll.” He tilts his head, licking his lips.
I bite the inside of my cheek, still trapped here. Wanting. Needing. Praying. And knowing it would be wrong. It will hurt like hell. My inner muscles are clenching. But oh, god! Yes, he is a god, carved from dusky stone.
“And as your god?” I flick my eyes to his. All the water droplets streaming down his face, they’re like diamonds against his velvety skin.
A muscle bounces in his jaw. He seizes my jaw, fingers digging in, firmly without hurting me. “As your god, I’ll shove myself up your sweet pussy so deep. I won’t stop until it’s choking on my cock. I’d burn you so much, you’ll feel my heat anytime you get fucked.”
I suck ragged breaths, overwhelmed. My pulse spins out of control. My vision darkens, but I force myself to stay in the present. Desperate to touch him.
“Then, ruin me, Cheekbones.”
He gives me the most devilish smirk, it shoots currents of heat right into my pussy.
When I push my wrists against his hand, Jude flicks his gaze up, then screws his brows low. His cock softens immediately.
“What?” I whimper.
“Last night…” He looks back at me. “It was too dark to see.”
“See what?”
“These.”
He lets go of my wrists, only to tug on my arm, shifting it so he’s trailing a finger down the silver scars. When I try to pull away, his grip grows stronger.
“They’re old. Don’t…don’t w-worry about them,” I brush it off, but I clutch my throat with my other hand.
“And this, fuck, this!” He traces a line across the old, very faint silver thread of a scar below my belly button. For anyone else, they wouldn’t know. “Briella. Babydoll…” He cups the side of my face. “Did you?”
I shake my head wildly, truthfully. “No. It never happened.” They wouldn’t allow it to happen. Bad seed. “Th-they s-stole—”
My throat constricts. I swear my lungs are collapsing. My heart is either shutting down, or it’s on fire when I remember the forced tubal ligation.
A second later, I’m huddled in Jude’s lap on the shower floor. Strong arms hold me tighter than ever. He talks me through it like last time, holds me through it, and presses my palms to his heartbeat.
Once I’ve finally calmed down, breathing more regulated, he lifts my chin. “Briella.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t go there. Not today.”
Sighing heavily, his muscles relaxing, Jude nods, kisses me, then sweeps me up. But not in the way I expect. He’s on his knees with my legs over his shoulders—his face to my pussy.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, grappling with the tiles, but I don’t need to hold onto anything. He has me.
“I’m ruining you. Feel free to scream, my goddess.”
I widen my eyes as he buries his face in my pubic lips and drags his tongue in a slow, tantalizing stroke until he arrives at my clit. Gasping, I take his shoulders, then his chiseled neck, holding him here as he licks fiery circles and teases all the sensitive places.
“Jude!” I gasp, then cry. “Fuckfuckfuck!”
So much buildup already. My cunt gushes with my arousal to the heaven and hell of his masterful tongue. My body clamps down, squeezing around emptiness, aching for more. But I’m rocking my hips, riding out the unholy pleasure of my orgasm.
The scorching lashes from his tongue don’t stop.
Oh, god! My whole body is tingling, my nerve endings screaming, but he’s not stopping.
He drives me wild, mindless with the delirium.
He licks me from clit to ass, tongue exploring and probing everywhere.
When he strokes my entrance, ringing the hole, I fall apart from the electricity igniting inside me.
Moaning the whole time until I’m breathless.
He still does not stop!
“Jude, for god’s sake, enough!” I gasp and move to touch his face.
He swipes my hand away. “Not until you’re screaming.”. He dives for my clit again.