Chapter 31
Lincoln
I can’t remember the last time I fucked a virgin, but I’m sure they weren’t as tight as this. Imogen’s snug cunt milks my
cock as I make her come again, her wet heat slicking my entire shaft, covering the tops of her thighs.
I stay inside her, my dick pulsing in her throbbing pussy. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she pants for breath.
Her hands are on my shoulders, fingernails digging into the muscle. I hope when I look at them in the mirror later, she’s
left her mark on my skin, just like she’s left one on my heart and soul. I knew as soon as she came to this house she’d be
the ruin of me, and despite all the promises I made to myself about the lines I wouldn’t cross, here I am filling her with
my cock. It’s still wrong. I’m still going to be eaten alive by guilt, but fuck it, she’s worth it. I could spend an eternity
in the deepest darkest pits of hell and it would be worth it just for this moment.
I suppose she’s not my ruin at all. She is the salvation I don’t deserve.
I already want her again. Want to flip her over with her perfect ass in the air while I fuck her from behind.
Instead, I gently lower her legs to the mattress and slide out of her.
She winces and I feel like an insensitive jerk for being so rough with her.
The fact that I prewarned her is no consolation to me right now.
I brush the strands of hair from her damp forehead. “How are you doing, angel?”
“Will it always be like that?” she asks, all wide-eyed and innocent while looking thoroughly fucked at the same time.
“You mean will it hurt?”
She shakes her head. “Will it always feel that . . . incredible?”
I suppress a satisfied smile and I drop a kiss on her forehead. “Angel, it’s only going to get better.”
“Better?” She beams, her face flushed pink and her green eyes sparkling. The real Imogen beneath the veneer of obedience and
expectations. I want this side of her. All the damn time.
“Better.” And much fucking filthier. I keep that last thought to myself. “If it weren’t your first time, I would fuck you
again right now.”
She snakes her arms around my neck. “I can take more. I want more, Linc.”
I love that she’s calling me Linc. Nobody has ever called me that, and nobody else ever will. I nip at her neck. “My greedy
little angel.”
“I’ve never felt anything that made me feel so good before. Is that normal?”
Nothing about me and her together could be described as normal. Nothing about what we just did either. It was explosive and
addictive. I’ve had plenty of sex before her, but she’s the first human being I’ve ever wanted to be so close to. Sex has
always been transactional. It was a necessary arrangement, given the life I lead, but also it was all I ever wanted. No feelings.
No attachment. With her though, there could never be enough of either. I could crawl inside her skin and it wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m not sure what you would consider normal, Imogen.”
“Well, I suppose I have no idea. But I was warned that it would hurt . . . a lot. I was never told about the other stuff.”
I roll onto my side and she does the same. The way she’s studying my face feels too intimate, too intense. But I’m unable
to resist the plea in her bright green eyes, or the gravitational pull of her. And this is an opportunity to discover more
about her childhood without appearing like I’m searching for information. Because any information about the Brotherhood is
always welcome, but I’m more interested in knowing all about her. “Who warned you it would hurt?”
“Larissa. My grandfather’s housekeeper.”
Ah yes, the governess figure Pierre told me of, who was definitely much more than that. “You two discussed sex?”
She nods. “We talked about a lot of stuff. She . . .” Her slender throat works, as though something is stuck inside her. “She
was the only person I had really. So anything I learned about life experiences, I learned from her. She tried to prepare me
for what would happen after the auction as best she could.”
White-hot rage sears through my veins. The mere thought of what my innocent angel was prepared for. What kind of violence
and abuse was she expecting, and what the hell did Larissa have to show or tell her to do that? Or was there more? Was she
taught to defend herself? Forced to fight? Shown how to please a man to seduce or subdue him? It all stokes my ever-present
need for vengeance to dangerous levels. And there were fifty women sold before her. Forty-eight of whom I haven’t yet managed
to free from their torment.
I swallow all of the anger, pushing it down deep where it won’t reach my girl and taint her with its darkness. I tuck a curl
behind her ear and soften my voice. “What did she prepare you for?”
A faint smile tugs the corner of her lips. “Not for this. You are nothing like what I was told to expect.”
Her choice of words makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “You were told about me specifically?”
She shakes her head. “No. I had no idea who would be there or who would buy me.” Those words fill me with shame.
Yes, I bought her, like a prize heifer at a fucking cattle auction.
But I did it for the right reasons. I did it to save her.
At least that’s what I need to believe, otherwise my soul is even more damned than it was before.
“I was taught to expect pain and cruelty,” she says flatly, and that fuels my rage further. “I was never taught about what
an orgasm might feel like or given any indication that I would feel any kind of pleasure from sex.”
I suppress a snarl, in case she worries it’s aimed at her. “And you were never allowed to touch yourself to give yourself
any pleasure?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t ever try anyway?”
Her jaw clenches and her eyes narrow a fraction. Her guard is up again and I could kick myself for pressing too hard too soon.
“I was an obedient child, Mr. Knight.”
Mr. Knight? I cup her chin, squeezing hard enough that she knows I’m not playing. “Don’t call me Mr. Knight, Imogen. I’ve
just been inside you and I’d say we’re past that, aren’t we? I am simply asking a question.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. “But you sounded like you didn’t believe me.”
I file away her reaction to being taken as a liar for future exploration. “You weren’t allowed to touch yourself and I assumed
it was because you were taught it was wrong, or something to be ashamed of. But you talk so openly and unashamedly about sex,
so that makes me think perhaps there was another reason. I’m merely curious. Exploring one’s own body and pleasure is a natural
part of human development. I’m not sure I could have abstained, no matter how many people told me I should.”
“Perhaps I am more disciplined than you, sir.”
I let the sir go, because I can’t be sure whether it’s sass or her submissive conditioning kicking in. Although I would much prefer it was the former. “I’m sure you are, angel. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why were you not permitted to touch yourself? Or even use a tampon?”
She holds my gaze, but she’s cold and detached. All her walls are up now. “So that I didn’t sully the property of the Brotherhood.
I was told they would know if I had ever touched myself inappropriately, and I was never brave enough to risk taking that
chance.”
She’s wrong. She’s the bravest creature I’ve ever known. I soften my grip, rubbing the underside of her jaw with my thumb.
“You are free to touch yourself, and be yourself, in this house, Imogen. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
She’s still closed off to me. Years of brainwashing will take a long time to change, even for someone as strong as her.
I press a kiss on her lips and run my tongue along the seam. She allows me entry into her sweet mouth and I kiss her softly,
hoping to reignite the spark of connection we just shared. But she’s gone, retreated into herself, and I can’t blame her.
I’m loath to even imagine the horrors she was prepared for and almost subjected to, so I cannot fathom the armor she had to
develop in order to deal with all of that. To be the fearless girl who walked onto that stage in front of a room full of monsters
and didn’t break.
I go to the restroom and bring back a warm washcloth, and I gently clean the cum from between her thighs. She lies back obediently
and lets me tend to her, then politely thanks me afterward. I hate it. I hate the well-trained obedient little pet she’s turned
into within the space of a few minutes. I hate what they made her—a perfect little fuck doll to be used and abused at will.
And given what we just did, it hurts like fuck that she’s closed herself off to me so quickly.
I know that she wanted what happened between us tonight.
She was different when she came into my study.
Filled with fire and defiance because I’d neglected her.
That was the real Imogen, the only one I have any interest in kissing, fucking, or doing anything else with.
And if I have to push her boundaries to bring out that side of her, then that’s exactly what I’ll do, no matter how cruel she might think me for it.
I press a soft peck on her forehead and wish her good-night. That’s when I see it, the tiniest flicker of anguish that flashes
in her eyes. Despite her walls, she wants me to stay in here with her. And I probably should, given how I just took her virginity
the way I did. But if I stay, I’ll likely wake her in the night to fuck her again, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to tap back
into the real her, or whether she’ll let me climb on top of her because that’s what she’s been conditioned to do. And taking
her like that would fucking crush me.
So, I leave her alone in the dark, even though I know it will probably hurt her. It guts me to my core to cause her any kind
of pain, but the reality is her guard comes down quickest when she’s feeling new overwhelming things. Imogen needs to break
free of whoever it was she was always taught or expected to be, and unfortunately for my girl, pain is usually the quickest
route to any kind of meaningful change.