chapter 23 #2
He pins my wrists above my head against the rough bark, the wood biting into my skin, while his other hand squeezes my cheeks together, forcing my face up. His face is lit with a monstrous grin, wild, feral. I’ve never seen this expression on him before.
“Your father trained you well,” he says, his voice edged with pride.
“Not well enough,” I snap, breathless, not pointing out the obvious fact that he has me pinned. “You’re still standing on your legs.”
He throws his head back and laughs, that same monstrous laughter, loud and unrestrained, echoing through the trees. His thick neck stretches in front of me, exposed.
Then, unexpectedly, he lets me go.
I stumble a step forward as he reaches into his pocket. With a sharp click, a blade snaps open. He extends it toward me, the metal glinting faintly in the moonlight.
“If you want to kill me,” he says calmly, “use this.”
I know that I can’t kill him. But still, I take the knife. My fingers wrap tightly around the handle.
He starts circling me slowly, like a predator indulging in a game. “Now, Angel, you have something to kill me,” he murmurs. “And I have nothing. Who is more powerful?”
“You are,” I say honestly, my grip tightening. “You’re stronger than me even without a weapon.”
My heart is thudding in a way it never has before, slamming against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my veins. Suddenly, he’s behind me. His fingers reach for my back, unclasping the hook of my bra.
I spin and slash the blade toward him. He dodges effortlessly, the smirk on his face never faltering.
Something is wrong here, and it’s not just the dangerous curve of his smile or my now-open bra. It’s the heat pooling between my thighs. The deep, aching throb in my core, sharp, needy, unfamiliar in its intensity.
I fumble behind me and rehook my bra. Miraculously, it closes on the first try. This time, I don’t let Matleon get behind me. We circle each other, slow and deliberate. I strike again. He dodges again. I’m not holding back, because I know I can’t hurt him.
In the next attack, he grabs my waist and pushes me to the ground. My back and ass hit the rough forest floor with a jolt. He falls on top of me, pinning me under his weight.
He releases my wrists holding the knife and pushes my bra up. I scream, pressing the blade against his neck. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he grabs my breasts, pressing them together, and dips his mouth over one of my nipples.
“Get away, Matleon, or I’ll kill you!” I warn, voice trembling yet loud.
He moans softly, almost taunting. “Do it, Angel,” he murmurs, looking into my eyes as he squeezes me. “Kill me.”
His tongue flicks across both nipples in maddening strokes, sending shivers racing through me. A loud moan tears from my throat.
Then he takes one nipple into his mouth, biting lightly. The ache between my thighs spikes, unbearable. I clench and unclench, desperate for relief, but I can’t even press my legs together with him between them.
He finally leaves my breasts. I press the blade against his neck again in protest, my hands shaking. I know I’m doing exactly the opposite of what I should. Hesitating, I loosen the grip just enough so he doesn’t notice.
Without warning, he grabs the waistband of my shorts and panties and pulls them down. I cry out in protest.
“What are you doing, Matleon?!” I scream, the sound echoing through the forest. It feels freeing, yelling at the top of my lungs, because no one else can hear me, and the only man who could doesn’t seem to mind.
He answers me by forcing my legs wide apart, so wide that my outer thighs are pressed against the earth. My center aches unbearably, a deep, pulsing need that makes me want to do anything to relieve it. I glance at the knife in my hand, almost tempted to use it to demand help with this ache.
But I don’t need to, because he is already taking control. He dips his mouth there, licking me from tip to down my ass.
“No!” I cry in a loud moan.
He groans against my wetness. “Use the knife if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding.
I pull the blade slightly away from him as he takes my clit between his teeth. My head is spinning, barely holding onto consciousness, and I don’t want to hurt him accidentally because of it.
He moans against me, devouring me completely.
My body shakes violently, and a wave of orgasm crashes over me, lifting me off the ground before I collapse back with cries.
It takes him just two licks and three sucks to make me come, so easily, so violently.
The aftershocks linger far longer than the peak itself.
I regain full awareness when something wet falls onto my still-spread thighs, soaking my well-used center.
I open my eyes and see Matleon’s massive dick in his hand, groaning as he releases his semen onto me.
Is it normal to feel aroused again immediately after such an orgasm, especially from seeing the man I hate covering me with his cum?
My head falls back, thoughts still hazy. I refuse to feel guilty about this experience. After all, he is my husband. I have every right to take pleasure through him. Yes, I return to my mantra: I’ll take whatever I want, selfishly.
The sound of his zipper closing interrupts my inner TED talk.
“You made a mess on me,” I mutter, voice a mixture of exasperation and awe.
He cleans me with something I have no desire to see. My body feels boneless, heavy with exhaustion, sleep tugging at my limbs.
“It’s called making a masterpiece, Angel,” he hums. “Masterpiece on masterpiece.”
He rubs my center two more times, slowly, and my thighs flutter helplessly in response.
He dresses me in my shorts, then pulls my bra back down into place before hovering over me.
“You are fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “I’ve never seen anything this beautiful.”
He presses the words onto my lips in a soft kiss. I don’t respond, but I don’t stop him either.
He rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry.”
I chuckle, more amused than affected. “Now what, were you again in a dream, flying above clouds?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for saying all those things to you. For hurting you. Please forgive me,” he whispers.
The effect is instant, like being thrown into an ice lake after soaking in a hot spring. All the lingering warmth, all the heat on my skin, freezes over. I push him aside and sit up abruptly.
He reaches for me, but I slap his hand away.
“This was nothing,” I say, meeting his eyes steadily. “It was just physical. It doesn’t change what I feel for you. Please don’t think I want to attach my emotions to you again just because you made me come.”
He frowns. “It’s not about whether I made you come or not.” He grabs my chin and tilts my face toward his. “I don’t want to keep it just physical. I want you to love me because I—”
I chuckle bitterly. “So now you want me to love you.” My eyes burn. “Don’t you think I’d be pathetic to love the man who called me desperate, who stomped over my heart like it was garbage?”
Tears spill from my eyes. Old wounds rip open, raw and bleeding again, and I hate that it’s happening in front of him. I hate that he gets to see this.
He cups my cheek, his touch trembling. “I was a jerk, Angel. And I regret it so fucking much. I want to take those words back, but I can’t. They’re already out there. All I can do now is beg for your forgiveness.”
His thumb brushes my skin. “I’ll do everything you say. I’ll spend my whole life correcting that mistake. Just give me the chance. Please, Iselyn.”
I stare into his dark eyes, searching, weighing, hurting. “Fine,” I say quietly. “I’ll give you another chance, if you divorce me.”
His fingers shake against my cheek. “You forced me into this marriage,” I continue, my voice steady even as my chest aches.
“If you truly regretted your past actions, you would have asked for my forgiveness before forcing me into this. You would have given me the freedom to choose if you really cared about me.”
My gaze hardens. “But you don’t, Matleon.”
He shakes his head. “I forced you into this marriage because I fucking need you as mine. I can’t do anything with you living an ocean away from me. I need you in front of me—as mine—so no one else can take you away.”
His voice hardens, desperation bleeding through it. “What power would I have had if you chose to fall for some other asshole? I would’ve done nothing.” A bitter breath leaves him. “Sorry, Angel, but I can’t do this one thing.”
He drops his hand from my face and stands. I rise too, my legs unsteady but my resolve firm.
“Nothing will ever work between us, Matleon.” My voice doesn’t shake, even if my heart does. “You’re a man I could never love, partly because of what you did, and partly because of the kind of man you are.”
His face shutters, turning into a mask of pure hurt. I ignore the sharp pang in my chest, turn away, and start walking.