Chapter 16 Corrina
CORRINA
The cell is a cage of stone and shadow, the air thick with the tension of our almost-kiss, crackling like a storm about to break.
I pace the cramped space, my silk skirts hissing against the rough floor, while Ronan slouches against the wall, his steel-blue eyes tracking me with a predator’s lazy intensity.
“Stop staring at me,” I snap, my voice sharp enough to slice through the damp air.
“Stop giving me something to stare at,” he drawls, the words dripping with challenge, stoking the fire in my chest.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re prowling like a caged leopard, all fury and restless heat. It’s distracting.”
“Maybe because I am caged.”
“So am I.”
I whirl to face him, silks flaring, my hands fisted at my sides. “Then why are you so damn calm about it?”
“Who says I’m calm?” His voice drops to a low growl, sending a shiver straight to my core.
“You’re just sitting there, acting like this hellhole doesn’t touch you.”
“Want me to pace with you, vixen? We’d rip each other apart in this box.”
The image of us circling, claws out, sparks a dark thrill low in my belly. “Maybe we should.”
“Should what?”
“Fight. End this twisted game we’re playing.”
“Is that what you want, Corrina?” His eyes glint, daring me to cross the line.
“I want…” I falter, because admitting the truth means giving ground, and I’ll be damned if I let this beast win our war. Not yet.
“What do you want?” His voice is rough, a challenge that makes my pulse race.
Something inside me snaps. I cross the cell in three strides, slamming my palms against the stone above his shoulders, caging him in.
“I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel this,” I hiss, close enough to smell the sweat and blood on him, to see the gold flecks in his eyes.
“Stop acting like you don’t want to fuck me until I scream. ”
“Feel what?” he taunts, but his pupils betray him, blown wide with hunger.
“This.” I gesture between us, my hand slicing the air. “This fire that makes my cunt throb every time you’re near, and I know you feel it too, you filthy beast.”
“Liar,” he growls, but there’s no weight behind it, only heat. “You think I want a spoiled harem girl who plays games with me?”
“Oh, please.” I lean closer, my breath hot against his jaw. “You want me to impale myself on that dirty cock of yours. You want me to ride you until you’re begging for mercy. Admit it.”
“Careful, Corrina,” he warns, voice low and dangerous, like a blade drawn slow. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Good. I want to burn. And I want to make you burn first.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Don’t I?” I press closer, my breasts brushing his chest through the thin tunic, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “I’m asking you to stop being a coward. To admit you’re just a horny beast who can’t stop thinking about me owning you.”
His hands seize my wrists, grip bruising, but he doesn’t push me away. “You think I’m a coward?”
“I think you’re terrified I’ll make you my bitch before you break me.”
The words hit like a lash, and his eyes flash feral, his grip tightening until it stings deliciously. “Don’t call yourself a whore.”
“Why not? It’s what I am. And it’s what makes you hard, isn’t it? The thought of defiling me until I’m screaming your name.”
“You’re not a whore to me.” The admission slips out, raw and unguarded, cracking the walls between us like brittle stone.
“Then what am I?” I demand, voice a low hiss.
“Dangerous. A sharp-tongued vixen who needs to be put in her place.”
“Good.”
I surge up and capture his mouth, the kiss a brutal clash of teeth and tongue, a war of hunger and hate.
He freezes for a heartbeat, then responds with savage intensity, his hands fisting in my hair to yank my head back, his tongue thrusting like he’s already fucking me.
It’s not a kiss—it’s a battle, and I bite his lip hard enough to taste blood.
“This is madness,” he growls, nipping my jaw, leaving a sting that makes me gasp.
“Yes.”
“We’ll regret it.”
“Not before I make you beg, beast.”
He shoves me against the wall, the cold stone biting into my back as he claims my mouth again, his growl vibrating through me.
His kiss is raw, unrefined, all power and no mercy, a beast unleashed.
“Is this what you wanted?” he rasps, lips trailing fire down my throat, sucking bruises into my skin. “To provoke me until I eat you alive?”
“No,” I gasp, arching into him. “I want to break you first.”
His eyes blaze, a storm of fury and hunger. “Then let’s see who breaks, vixen.”
He drops to his knees, the movement sudden and predatory, shoving my skirts up to my waist with rough hands. The cold cell air hits my bare skin, and before I can brace myself, he yanks my thighs apart, hooking one leg over his shoulder.
His mouth is on me, hot and relentless, his tongue lashing my clit with brutal precision. He sucks hard, drawing a moan from deep in my throat, while two fingers plunge into my soaked pussy, curling to hit that spot that makes my vision blur.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my hands fisting in his hair, grinding against his face. “Eat me like the dirty beast you are.”
He growls into my core, the vibration sending shocks through me as his tongue flicks and circles, his fingers thrusting with punishing rhythm.
I’m drowning in him, my body betraying me as I ride his mouth, chasing the edge.
He’s relentless, sucking my clit until my thighs tremble, adding a third finger that stretches me, fucking me deep and hard.
“You taste like defiance,” he snarls against my folds, his breath hot. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”
“Longer than you,” I gasp, tugging his hair harder, trying to keep control even as my hips buck. “You’ll be my bitch before I come.”
He laughs, dark and wicked, the sound muffled as he doubles down, his tongue tracing filthy patterns, his fingers relentless.
I’m close, so close, but I won’t let him win this easily.
I shove him back, his fingers slipping free with a wet sound, his lips glistening with my arousal as he hits the straw-covered floor.
“My turn,” I snarl, straddling his hips, pinning him down with my weight. I rip open his leathers, his hard cock springing free—thick, veined, and already leaking pre-cum. I don’t give him a moment to recover, wrapping my hand around the base and taking him into my mouth, swallowing him deep.
My throat constricts around him as I bob with ruthless intent, sucking hard, my tongue swirling around the head.
He groans, a raw, broken sound, his hips jerking up, but I pin him with my hands, my nails digging into his thighs.
“Fuck, Corrina,” he growls, his voice strained.
I graze my teeth along his shaft, just enough to make him shudder, and work him faster, hollowing my cheeks, tasting salt and heat.
My hand twists at the base, the other cupping his balls, rolling them until they tighten under my touch.
This is a duel, and I’m winning. I suck him harder, deeper, my lips stretching around him as I take him to the hilt, my nose brushing his pelvis.
His hands fist in the straw, his breathing ragged, curses spilling from his lips.
“You think you can break me like this?” he pants, but his voice cracks, betraying him.
I pull off just long enough to smirk up at him, my lips wet.
“I already am, beast.” Then I dive back in, relentless, my tongue flicking the sensitive underside, my hand pumping what my mouth can’t take.
He’s close—I can feel the way his cock throbs, the way his hips buck despite his efforts to stay in control.
He breaks first, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he comes, flooding my mouth with hot, thick spurts. I swallow every drop, milking him through it, my tongue teasing until he’s shuddering beneath me. Only then do I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, triumphant.
But he’s not done. Before I can gloat, he surges up, flipping me onto my back on the straw.
His mouth is on me again, licking up the slickness he left behind, his fingers plunging back in, fucking me with renewed ferocity.
“You don’t get to win that easily,” he growls, sucking my clit until I’m writhing, my earlier victory forgotten as he pushes me over the edge.
I come hard, a scream ripping from my throat, my walls clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me.
We collapse together on the straw, panting, bodies tangled, sweat and arousal slick between us. My silks cling to my skin, and I can taste him on my tongue, feel the ache of my own release. The cell is silent except for our ragged breaths and the distant creak of the prison.
“I hate you,” I whisper, the words a reflex, a shield against the dangerous warmth creeping into my chest.
He chuckles, low and rough. “Good.” His hand lands on my ass with a sharp smack, the sting blooming into heat. “Hate me again tomorrow.”