CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Betrayal of Own
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Betrayal of Own
I let out a cry. And it satisfied the extremely pissed man above me.
His teasing, rough fingers ran along my inner thighs, burning my skin, but purposely avoiding touching me at the forbidden part.
My hazy eyes raked all over him, from his defined collarbones to his exposed manhood.
He stopped pumping, yet the organ was alive with life, standing erect, touching his navel.
The more he tormented me this way, the scarier it was getting for me to ready myself. Even though I had convinced myself that this was for my plan. A plan I’d execute once I was out of this goddamn mansion. But looking at him now, I wondered if he was playing with me.
Of course, he was. He always had. There was no doubt about how perverted and unpredictable he was when it came to situations like this, only if he’d get it over with.
My eyelashes trembled as I sucked in another breath. Strangely, my body started heating up for some unknown reason. Knowing human anatomy, I knew this was the response of the mind and my body, not my heart. I didn’t want this. I reminded myself again and again.
It was sinful how he seemed to know my body more than I knew myself. Because next moment, he cupped my core, rubbing it with the heel of his palm in tantalising slow circles, making my eyes widen and my fists clenched over his biceps.
Shit. No. I couldn’t feel it. I shouldn’t.
Yet when he applied a little more pressure, I mewled involuntarily. I closed my eyes as his one hand caressed my breast and rubbed circles on my clitoris with the other. It felt electric, how my body was burning up with his every single touch.
“Don’t close your eyes, Dolcezza. Watch as I make you come on my fingers, my tongue and my cock.”
I had no choice but to open my eyes. My body was already corrupted, so it didn’t matter if I enjoyed this or not. I was breathing rapidly and looked into his eyes.
The bastard smirked, and while looking into my eyes, he covered my core with his hand, slowly putting a finger in. My body jerked, my back arched, and I reached for anything to hold when he pushed deeper, until I was gasping for air.
“You’re tight. So fucking tight.”
I bit on my lips, preventing anything from slipping out. He could use me however he saw fit, but he would never have my voice, not until I died. That’s all he’d get.
But how did I stop the tremors? When his hand on my breast kneaded them, I shivered as he leaned and peppered kisses on the sensitive skin before biting it and sucking on it.
I instinctively tilted my head to the side, still biting on my lips as he nibbled down on the erect nipple, and I gasped.
I didn’t know I was this sensitive when it came to sex. Adrian and I had been with each other for four years, yet I’d never felt this way with him. But the way Zagreus feasted on my life essence as if needing to feel it throb beneath his mouth.
I released a shattered breath when his middle finger joined the index one inside me. “You’re wild, for someone who hates me.”
I held onto the wrist of his hand, but it was not enough to stop him. “Just… fuck me already.”
I gasped as he put more pressure and scoffed. “I decide how to play, not you, wife. I’ll fuck you when I want.” He was merely fingering me that slowly, and yet I felt like I’d explode. I’d never been so… wanton for male attention, had I?
“Zagreus…” I breathed out.
“Yes, Dolcezza.”
“Please…”
I didn’t know what I was pleading for, for his fingers to penetrate deeper and give me an orgasm or for his actions to stop.
The pressure in my stomach was building with each stroke, and I couldn’t rationalise with myself anymore.
Something twisted in me, and I was suddenly convulsing all over him.
Like I’d just jumped from a cliff with no ground.
When I came down from high, I realised what I had just done and shame bubbled within me.
Refusing to look at his grinning face, I panted heavily, trying to catch my breath.
But he had other plans; he didn’t let me rest. Instead, I was being flipped on my stomach.
A gasp left my lips before his arm was wrapped around my mid-section, and my buttocks was lifted in the air.
I was frozen in place, time and everything in between.
He looked calm now, but I knew he was still mad about me mentioning Adrian.
At least now I knew what ticked him off.
And that was a mention of my dead lover.
I stared at the metal headboard with its exotic golden motifs, refusing to look at him.
Because the more I looked at him, the deeper the darkness sucked me in.
I couldn’t figure him out, not when he wore his expression with the same ease as he wore his dark suit.
“Part your thighs.” He stroked my hair gently.
I slowly repositioned my knees, and the cold air hit my womanhood. I was sensitive there, just after an orgasm, after I came down from high, but the brute hadn’t let me breathe yet.
“That’s my Dolcezza.”
My muscles locked whenever he called me that, and I had no idea whether it was as an endearment or a mocking way to remind me of my misery. Just like most things he did to me, whether he inflicted pain or his dark claim whenever I refused him.
I wondered how many women had become his target.
I couldn’t be the only one. And I most definitely couldn’t be the last either.
Men like him loved control, like breathing air.
They dwelled in it. Cruel and calloused.
Brutal and sadistic. Perverted, too, because he loved seeing me in pain.
He wore that quiet, controlled mask like it could hide the monster underneath, but I saw him for what he was…
a depraved, perverted fucker who lived to hurt, to take, to own as he saw fit.
Twisting cruelty into mercy, making suffering feel like a gift, and now he stood behind me, ready to take another piece of me for his sick pleasure.
Cruel hands parted my buttocks before I felt a gust of wind… or hot breath. My body jerked, and I quickly tried to pull away, only to be held captive by him as his rough hands gripped my waist. “Move, and I’ll tie you up.”
“What… what are you doing?!”
“What does it look like, little wife? Of course, I wanna enjoy your cunt while it's dripping for me.”
“No, it's…” Dirty, disgusting and deviant behaviour. But before I could say anything, his mouth was on me, between my legs, warm tongue penetrating me as his thumb moved to my bundle of nerves. And a strange sensation bubbled inside me as I stuffed my face into my sheets, refusing to moan for him.
Shit. It felt… devastatingly… good. Why?
He had taken everything from me, my freedom, my dignity and the man I loved. Snatched him from my arms, ripped his soul from this world like it meant nothing, and then he turned to me, wiped the blood from his blade like it was an afterthought and told me I was his.
His wife. His property. His plaything.
I should have fought harder. Should have screamed, clawed and torn at him until I had nothing left. But I didn’t. Maybe because I knew it would never matter. He would take what he wanted regardless; the monster always wins.
Yet now… now as his tongue wreaked havoc inside me, as he tormented me with slow, languid strokes, unravelling me in ways I didn’t understand… my body betrayed me. Welcomed him.
I hated myself for it.
Hated the way my thighs trembled, the heat pooling in my gut, the traitorous pulse of pleasure that coiled tighter, tighter until I wanted to scream, to sob, and to scratch my skin open just to purge the shame from my veins.
“This pussy is mine to fuck, to lick and tame in whatever way I please. When I say bend, you will spread your legs and invite my cock like a good little wife.” Every word scraped against my heated core.
I saw blur, darkness and everything I was not supposed to.
My body had become accustomed to him. Opening for him and inviting him. I’d never felt this way before. Never.
A sharp nip against my sensitive flesh had me jerking, hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline, and I screamed into the pillow. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It was too much. This pain and pleasure.
Bastard. Sadist. Depraved, insatiable devil.
And yet, as his tongue plunged deeper, forcing another gasp from my lips, I realised something horrible.
I wasn’t thinking of the man he killed. I wasn’t thinking of anything at all.
I was drowning in fact… completely, utterly and endlessly like the waves outside.
Colliding on the shore, knowing that was the endpoint.
Another electric sensation rippled through me, and before I knew it, I was clutching the sheets tighter, my vision blurred, and I released. It was humiliating how he chuckled and leapt like a hungry animal, licking me down there where Adrian never had.
Tears accumulated in my eyes as the strength in my arms failed and I fell face-first on the bed, panting and trembling. What… what had I just done? I came undone in the hands of my captor.
I wished the earth would split and swallow me whole. I wished I could disappear into the sheets, into the darkness, into nothingness… anything to escape reality and his satisfied grey eyes.
A firm grip tangled in my hair, forcing my head up, making me face the truth I so desperately wanted to deny. His hot breath ghosted over my skin. “That was the sweetest sound you’ve ever made, Dolcezza.”
Shame crawled up my spine, and my lips trembled, parted, but no words came. What was left to say? He had stripped me of everything… my pride, my defiance and my grief… until there was only this unbearable and aching guilt and need.
I hated him for making me crave what should disgust me.
For making my body betray me in the worst way possible.
“You’re trembling.” He brushed his fingers down my spine, making me arch my back unconsciously. “Was it too much, or not enough?”
The wicked, darkly amused tone irked me.
I clenched my teeth, digging my nails into the sheets. But the sensation of his mouth on me still lingered, burned into my skin, seared into my very bones. My traitorous pulse is still thrumming between my legs.
“Nothing to say?” he murmured, tracing the curve of my hip. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty now. Because that would be a damn shame, little wife.”
I squeezed my eyes. Damn him. I hated how he could read me like an open book while I had to struggle to even know his name. But he didn’t stop there; his fingers parted my core, gently running along my parted folds. I could feel the slickness, and that disgusted me.
He chuckled, kissing the back of my neck. “He’s dead, Dolcezza. You can mourn him, but he’ll never be the one to make you come. That honour belongs to me.”
A sob crawled up my throat, but I refused to cry.