20. Aron
ARON
When we arrive back at the caves, I lead Riley through the narrow opening between the rocks and towards the metal door.
Her face is like a window into her mind, reflecting everything: her loneliness, her dread, her misery.
I have no idea what mine would show if I looked in the mirror. My thoughts are all over the place.
The courtyard is busy, most men enjoying the sun—cleaning their weapons, training, going over the bridge plans.
As we near the cave’s entrance, Riley digs her heels in the sandy ground, refusing to budge even as I tug at her arm warningly. This is where my anger would usually flare—I’m expecting it, waiting for it. But it doesn’t come, and its absence is jarring.
“Don’t make me go back in there,” Riley pleads breathlessly, eyes darting in panic.
“Don’t make a scene, Hotshot.” My voice lacks its usual venom.
Heat crawls up the back of my neck. There are too many eyes on us. If anyone makes remarks I’m not interested in hearing, I’ll knock their teeth down their throats.
“Doesn’t what Lena told you count for anything?”
Yes.
No!
The truth is I don’t know. I need some time away from her freckled face, away from her irresistible body. I need to think, but I can’t do that with her looking at me all sad and scared.
What a complicated fucking mess.
And here it is, finally. My rage, like a familiar shield. Simple. Comforting.
“You’re not entitled to answers,” I tell her harshly through my gritted teeth. “You will obey me. Or I’ll drag you in by your hair and find a way to remind you of your place that will make you never forget it again.”
I crowd her, expecting her to take a step back—most people would. But she stands her ground, letting me get close. Too close.
Close enough for me to breathe in her naturally sweet scent. Close enough to count every one of her freckles. Close enough to see the liquid darkness deep in her eyes, blending into her fear.
“Please,” she mouths.
“Begging gets you nowhere,” I assure her.
She takes a deep breath through her nose, exhaling sharply. Her eyes fill with simpering fury that’s more than a match for my own.
“Fine,” she spits. “If reason gets me nowhere, and begging gets me nowhere, then fuck you. I’m not walking in there.” She stands on her tiptoes to get in my face, teeth bared. “Whatever you’re going to do to me just fucking do it already.”
Despite the hatred in her glare, she is biting her lip and leaning closer to me. Her body craves my touch. Her body and her mind are at war. And no matter her resistance, her body will win. I’ll make sure of it.
“Careful, Hotshot,” I growl. “It’s starting to sound like you want me to punish you.”
She hisses with a sharp intake of breath, taken aback. But she collects herself quickly, and a defiant, daring smirk ripples across her face.
“Maybe I do.” Her breath is hot on my lips, her gaze locked with mine.
The blood in my veins ignites, rushing through my body with a fiery roar. My hand shoots forward, driven by instinct. I fist her hair, whipping her around with a sharp tug. Fast, so that she doesn’t see the triumphant smirk on my face.
She thinks she’s ready for what’s coming because she thinks that the worst I can give her is pain. Little does she know that her pain no longer interests me.
Not since I found out that I could be the first to give her pleasure. From the moment she told me, I’ve been like a man possessed, craving the power I could have over her, obsessed with making her crave me. There’s no resisting it anymore. I’m going to ruin her.
I tear her from the spot. I yank the door open and drag her inside, her fingers digging into mine as she struggles to loosen my hold on her hair.
Roughly, I shove her inside her cell and shut the door behind us with a loud bang.
“Trousers off.” I bark at her. “Now. Don’t make me do it for you.”
I need her bare, exposed, at my mercy.
She looks at me with her lips slightly parted but doesn’t dare protest with a single word. She slips out of her trousers and her shoes and leaves them crumpled on the ground. Her clit is deep pink and swollen. Fear’s got her all ready for me.
She retreats from my approach until her back is pressed against the cell bars. Her wide eyes are searching my face frantically.
“Aron ...” She says my name like it’s a warning—I want to hear her moan it.
Still, I hesitate. The next step I take towards her is deliberately slow, gravel crunching underneath my boot. There are very few lines I haven’t crossed. But taking a woman against her will is one of them.
Not that I couldn’t, if it came right down to it.
It’s because I’ve crossed so many of those lines that I know the fundamental truth about them.
Those invisible barriers that separate a good person from a damned one are invisible because they don’t exist. I couldn’t imagine killing a man until I did.
But when I did, the pits of hell hadn’t opened to swallow me whole.
There was no immediate, impactful regret to drive me to despair, no sleepless, nightmare-ridden nights.
Just tiny, imperceptible ripples of missing who I was before—chipping away at my soul so very slowly that I didn’t realise the damage they caused until the person I used to be was practically gone.
I now know without a shadow of a doubt that I could do absolutely anything I set my mind to. But her defeat isn’t what I want. Her surrender is.
Three men have forced her before me. None has ever discovered the way to make her body sing. I will be the first.
“Tell me you don’t want it,” I rasp, taking one more step towards her.
“I don’t,” she whimpers feebly, crouching like cornered prey.
My pretty little prey.
“Tell me you don’t want to know what it’s like when it feels good,” I urge her.
She closes her eyes for a heartbeat, groaning. Conflicted. “Not you,” she pleads. “Anyone but you.”
Her words tear at something raw and fill me with a dull ache.
Anyone but me? Soon, there won’t be anyone else in her world—I’ll make damn sure of that. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll forget anyone else exists.
“I won’t fuck you today if that’s what’s got you scared.” I grit my teeth because fuck if I wouldn’t like to! But to get her to drop her defences, I need to give right now, only give and not take.
“Then what are you going to do to me?”
If anything, she looks even more spooked now.
But I am the master of fear, more familiar with it than with any other human emotion.
I’ve both felt and inflicted it more times than I can count.
I can recognise all its possible flavours.
And hers has just morphed from acidic terror to sizzling thrill.
That kind of fear is only good for her pussy.
“What you asked for. Punish you,” I reply with a diabolical smirk. “And what’s worse, you’ll love it.”
Her eyes widen, and she bites her lip, whimpering.
I’m close enough to touch her now. Close enough now to smell not only her fear but her excitement too.
It takes forever for me to reach out my hand.
My fingertips glide across her mound and then lower below. And long before I even get close to her entrance, my fingers are slick with her arousal.
She is so, so wet.
That glistening temptation taps into the primal core deep down inside of me, primitive but powerful. Pure instinct.
Looking at her now, I don’t see a traitor. I don’t see an icon. All I see is a very wet girl, trembling with need. She needs this. She needs me.
And every ounce of blood in my body boils and rages with the urge to cater to that need. My cock couldn’t care less that I hate her.
Riley lets out a choked gasp when I bring my fingers to my mouth, tasting her, savouring her. Fuck. So fucking sweet. I’m instantly drunk on her. She tastes like all the sins you want to commit in heaven.
I spin her around, firm but not rough. Her breathing is very shallow, but she isn’t resisting me.
I bring my hands to her front and cup her tits, fitting so fucking snugly in my palms. Her nipples are pebbled. I flick each with my thumb over the fabric of her shirt, and she moans.
My hands continue their downward trajectory until they reach the soft skin of her lower stomach.
Goosebumps erupt in the wake of my fingertips, and the way she reacts to me sends electric jolts of pleasure down my spine.
I hug her waist and trace the sharp curve of her hips before finishing my exploration with that irresistible ass of hers, squeezing it until I draw more intoxicating noises out of her.
Every inch of her body is fucking perfect.
My cock is twitching wildly in my pants, leaking torrents of precum.
Embracing her from behind, I lay my right hand on top of hers, closing my own fingers around two of hers.
I guide her hand down and then between her legs, coating her fingers with her juices, enjoying the warmth radiating off her needy pussy. I bring her hand up and press her wet fingers against her clit.
“What are you doing?” she asks when I make her trace the bud in slow circles. “It’s not going to work ... I won’t come this way.” She is silent for a heartbeat, then adds quietly, “I’ve tried.”
“Not with me you haven’t,” I point out gruffly, increasing the pressure on her fingers.
Her body tenses in my hold. My balls nearly explode when she backs into me, ass wedged between my thighs as she tries to escape what I’m doing at the front. But there is no escaping me.
I flick her clit with my own thumb a few times before changing the direction I’m making her work at herself.
“Aron, please.” There’s more embarrassment than resistance in her voice. “Please. My body just doesn’t work this way,” she speaks with a desperate edge.
“Your body’s going to work whichever way I want it to. You’re not in control. I am.”