Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Remember how I told you I owe you a punishment?” He brushes his lips against my ear.
A noise of protest exhales from my lips, and I can feel him smiling against me as he inhales me. What an asshole.
I try to yank away again, but he tightens his grip on my throat, chiding me.
“You’re my wife now, Willow,” he growls. “There’s nowhere to run.”
He drags his wet fingers from my thong and grabs a handful of my ass, kneading the flesh before he smacks it… hard.
“What the hell,” I yelp.
Another smack, followed by another. He spanks me so many times I lose count until I can feel nothing but his flaming handprints covering my back side. I don’t have to look to know it’s red, and it’s probably going to remind me of him every time I sit down for the next few days.
Just when I’m about to beg him for mercy, he stops, giving me a much-needed reprieve as his fingers find their way between my legs again. He strokes me gently, a complete contrast to the way he just obliterated my ass cheeks, and I’m having trouble keeping up with him. I don’t know what to expect from one minute to the next. I just know when he stops me from coming again, I want to scream.
He shows no sympathy toward my plight. He continues to torture me, groping my body, teasing my nipples, dragging his teeth along my neck. His fingers tangle in the mass of my hair, wrenching my head back, and he renews his torment between my thighs, driving me to the point of insanity.
I’m on the verge of begging for it—something I swore I’d never do—when he scoops me up and hauls me to the bed. He splays me out across the comforter, pausing to stare down at me like he’s fighting a war inside his own mind.
He wants me. Of that, there can be no doubt.
But I think he’s disgusted with himself for it too. Maybe that will save me.
It’s a fleeting thought, one that disappears a moment later when he leans his body over mine, spreading my thighs apart.
“Wait,” I protest. “I don’t think this is going to work. Seriously, you’re going to kill me.”
Another dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as he caresses my cheek with his thumb. “So fucking innocent, and yet so fucking evil.”
His words sting, but I know they’re nothing in comparison to what’s going to happen next. I’m thinking of all those books I read and how they never mentioned a scenario quite like this. And I’m pretty sure my life is flashing before my eyes as he drags the head of his cock against my slickness.
I don’t want it to feel good because that seems deceptive. Something that can annihilate me shouldn’t feel good. But there isn’t time to entertain such notions because he leans his massive frame over me and starts to push inside.
Slowly. So fucking slowly.
I suck in a breath, meeting his gaze without meaning to. At this moment, neither one of us can seem to look away. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I realize I’m clutching his biceps like a lifeline, like he can save me from himself somehow.
“How does it feel?” he chokes out, like it’s taking every ounce of restraint he has to be gentle with me right now.
Like I have a giant fucking cock wedging its way inside of me. It feels like he’s stretching me apart. There’s a sting, but it’s not as apocalyptic as I imagined it would be. I can’t tell him as much, though, so I just nod at him to continue.
Breathing deeply, I watch him as he closes his eyes and sinks in as far as my body can take him. It’s tender and foreign, and I’m really not entirely sure how to feel about it until he starts to pivot his hips slightly, rolling them back and forth. It’s a small movement, maybe just an inch or two, but it’s enough to feel all of him. My nerves are on fire, my skin is flushed, and my nipples are stabbing the air as he starts to fuck me for real.
I lose myself to the sensations, the power of his body drugging me, pulling me under a spell I didn’t cast and one I don’t know how to protect myself from. But I’m not the only one. It’s written in his eyes when he opens them to meet mine. There’s a fire in him he can’t extinguish, one he’s actively trying to resist, even as he stokes it with every thrust.
He’s staring down at me like I’m the devil incarnate, but his body says otherwise. I can feel it in every twitch of his muscles. The tension coursing through his spine. The clench of his jaw. I watch in fascination as he gives into it, thrusting harder, deeper, claiming me in a way nobody else ever will.