CHAPTER 32 THE CORONATION OF ASHES POV THAYER #2
"I chose my husband," she vows, entirely unapologetic.
A low, feral growl vibrates deep in my throat.
I completely pull the silk dress up her thighs, bunching the fabric around her waist. She is not wearing any underwear.
The sheer, absolute vulnerability of her body offered so freely to my hands completely severs the last remaining thread of my civilized restraint.
"You are magnificent," I praise, my voice a dark, relentless stream of absolute worship. "You are the most ruthless, beautiful, terrifying creature to ever exist. And you belong entirely to me."
I drop to my knees.
The polished stone is hard against my kneecaps, but I completely ignore it. I am at the feet of my queen.
I grip the backs of her thighs with my large, calloused hands, pulling her legs slightly apart. I stare entirely at her swollen, slick center. She is completely soaked for me, a heavy, transparent nectar weeping from her body, entirely betraying her desperate, aching need.
I lean forward and press an open-mouthed kiss directly to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Sybil’s head tosses back against the glass wall with a sharp, melodic cry, her fingers tangling violently in the dark, heavy waves of my hair.
I do not rush. I have the entire rest of my miserable life to completely ruin her.
I map her thighs with my mouth, leaving hot, wet bites against her pale skin, slowly edging closer to the desperate, agonizing heat of her core. She is trembling, her knees buckling slightly, entirely forced to rely on my hands to keep her upright against the glass.
"Thayer, please," she begs, her voice completely shattered, entirely overwhelmed by the agonizing anticipation.
"Tell me what you want," I command, my breath washing hot and heavy directly against her slick folds.
"You," she sobs, her hips instinctively bucking forward, completely chasing the heat of my mouth. "I just want you."
I completely grant her request.
I open my mouth and entirely consume her.
A high, piercing scream completely tears from her throat, echoing loudly through the massive, empty villa.
My tongue sweeps out, a broad, heavy, relentless stroke that completely coats her sensitive flesh.
I taste her—the dark, intoxicating musk of her arousal mixed with the absolute, undeniable proof of her surrender.
I find the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath her hood. I draw it entirely inside my mouth, applying a heavy, agonizing suction. I use my tongue to flick relentlessly against the swollen peak, establishing a fast, driving, completely punishing rhythm.
Sybil entirely loses her mind.
Her hands pull frantically at my hair, her nails scratching against my scalp. Her thighs clamp tightly around my ears, entirely trapping me exactly where I want to be. The glass behind her vibrates as her body completely spasms under the sensory overload.
"Good girl," I praise against her wet skin, my voice a muffled, dark vibration. "Shatter for me, Sybil. Break."
I slide two thick fingers deep inside her tight, scalding velvet, completely stretching her. I curl my fingers upward, repeatedly striking the heavy, sensitive ridge along her anterior wall, while my mouth continues its relentless, devastating assault on her clitoris.
She cannot breathe. Her chest heaves with violent, jagged gasps, her skin flushing a deep, mottled crimson. She is entirely suspended in a blinding, white-hot purgatory of absolute pleasure, completely dominated by the man kneeling at her feet.
The climax hits her with catastrophic force.
Her entire body locks into a state of rigid, trembling paralysis. Her internal muscles spasm violently, repeatedly crushing my fingers in tight, scalding waves. A long, fractured, beautiful wail entirely escapes her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated release that I swallow entirely.
I do not stop. I force her to ride out every single, agonizing aftershock of the orgasm, my tongue relentlessly working her hypersensitive nerves until she is completely weeping, her hands weakly pushing against my shoulders.
When she finally goes completely limp, sliding precariously down the glass wall, I withdraw my fingers and stand up.
I catch her before she hits the floor. I wrap my arms entirely around her waist, lifting her limp, exhausted body up. I carry her through the hallway, heading straight for the sun-drenched master bedroom.
I toss her onto the center of the massive, low-profile bed. She bounces slightly on the pristine white linens, entirely boneless, her heavy eyelids fluttering as she struggles to drag oxygen back into her lungs.
I stand at the edge of the mattress. I reach for the heavy silver buckle of my belt, completely flicking it open. I strip my dark trousers and boxer briefs down in one swift motion, completely freeing my heavy, aching length.
I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking deeply into the mattress on either side of her hips.
I grab the hem of the white silk dress still bunched around her waist and violently pull it over her head, completely entirely discarding it onto the floor.
She is entirely naked, completely flushed, and perfectly ruined.
I crawl over her, my massive body entirely caging her beneath me. I support my weight on my forearms, incredibly mindful of the scars on my chest, entirely hovering over her face.
"Look at me," I demand, my voice a dark, lethal hum.
She forces her tear-soaked lashes open, staring up into my black, obsessive eyes.
"You are the Queen of the Thorne Syndicate," I vow, my right hand sliding down to completely grip her hip. "And I am going to spend the rest of my life entirely inside you."
I position myself at her entrance, completely slick with her heavy nectar. I drive my hips forward, burying myself entirely inside her with one ruthless, devastating thrust.
A sharp, ragged scream tears from her throat. Her internal muscles clamp down violently, completely accepting the massive intrusion, welcoming the overwhelming fullness that entirely eclipses her physical exhaustion.
Thayer groans, a harsh, guttural sound of pure, dark satisfaction. I go completely rigid above her, my forehead dropping to rest heavily against hers, our skin slick with sweat.
"Sybil," I breathe, entirely lost in the absolute perfection of the fit.
I begin to move.
It is not the frantic, desperate survival sex of the study or the motel.
It is a slow, heavy, profoundly possessive claiming.
I pull back almost completely, torturing us both with the agonizing withdrawal, before driving my hips down, completely seating myself against her core.
The heavy, wet slap of our bodies colliding is a rhythmic, hypnotic drumbeat.
I dominate her completely. I dictate the pace, forcing her to endure the slow, agonizing friction.
"Tell me," I growl, my hips driving deep, completely grinding against her sensitive center. "Tell me exactly who you belong to."
"You," she sobs, her hands entirely gripping my scarred shoulders, her fingernails digging into my flesh. "Only you, Thayer."
"Say it again," I demand, entirely increasing the brutal, driving pace of my thrusts, completely pushing her back toward the edge of the precipice.
"I belong to you!" she screams, her head tossing back against the pillows, completely losing control as the second climax rapidly approaches.
I do not hold back. I let the absolute, unhinged obsession in my blood completely take over.
I ride her with a feral, aggressive intensity, completely branding my existence into her nerve endings.
She meets every devastating thrust, her hips bucking wildly beneath me, her legs wrapping securely around my waist to pull me impossibly deeper.
The climax hits us simultaneously.
My vision completely whites out. I roar her name, a dark, primal sound of absolute victory, as my body entirely locks rigidly against hers. I pour my heavy, hot release deeply into her core, completely sealing the blood pact that defines our existence.
She shatters beneath me, screaming my name, her body milking my thick length in violent, scalding spasms that completely stop my heart.
I collapse forward, completely burying my face in the curve of her neck, my chest heaving violently against her breasts. The air conditioning chills the sweat on our skin, but the immense, burning heat between our bodies is absolute.
We lie in the silence for a long time, completely anchored to the mattress, entirely insulated from the world we burned to the ground.
I slowly roll off her, pulling the pristine white sheet over our bodies. I pull her entirely flush against my uninjured side. She rests her head on my chest, her fingers lazily tracing the heavy white burn scars on my ribs.
"Thayer," she whispers, her voice completely thick with sleep.
"I'm here," I murmur, kissing the crown of her head.
"Do you think they will ever stop looking for us?" she asks softly, the ghost of her past entirely incapable of staying completely buried.
I look out the open glass walls, entirely tracking the endless, empty horizon of the ocean.
"No," I answer honestly. "The federal government does not forget. Your brother will not forget. They will hunt the ghosts of the Thorne Syndicate until the end of their miserable lives."
I feel her tense slightly against my side.
I tighten my arm around her waist, completely pulling her closer.
"Let them hunt," I growl, a dark, terrifying smirk completely curving my lips. "They will never find this island. They will never breach this cage. We are the kings of the ashes, Sybil. And we are never, ever going back."
She relaxes, completely entirely surrendering to the absolute security of my promise.
"Good," she breathes, entirely closing her eyes.
I watch her sleep, completely consumed by the heavy, toxic, beautiful reality of my obsession. The world outside the glass is completely irrelevant.
The monster has his prize, and he is entirely at peace.